


Nothing Is Safe

by Derpy505



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Death, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Gangs, Guns, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Protective Alexander Hamilton, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Snark, Syndicates, Violence, some inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24213697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Derpy505/pseuds/Derpy505
Summary: Alexander Hamilton has been a part of the Timentes Taciti Syndicate for as long as he could remember. Small, irrelevant jobs are all he's done, they've all been biding their time, waiting for the day to come. The day Peter and Jane Jefferson bit the dust. With dangerous individuals varying from arms dealers to dirty politicians, will Alexander be able to keep Thomas alive? Or will they both meet the end of the barrel, putting everything Alex had prepared for in vain?
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson, George Washington/Martha Washington, Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan, John Laurens/James Madison, Maria Reynolds/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler
Comments: 30
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter One

Hamilton groaned as he read the new email. Jefferson has been relentless, sending message after message, insisting with every fiber in his body that Alexander has gone off the deep end. He was about to if he received another goddamn email. 

Sighing, he shut his laptop with more force than necessary and made his way to John's office. Unsurprisingly, his journey was cut short as he heard a certain intern call his name. Alexander made his way over to Madison, who was looking particularly distraught. 

"What do you need, Madison?" Hamilton asks, annoyed. 

"Have you seen Thomas?" He asks frantically. 

"Have you checked his office? He's been sending me obnoxious emails non-stop." 

"Of course I checked his fucking office!" James snaps. 

Hamilton raises a disapproving eyebrow, and Madison pales slightly, he is just an intern after all. And his cousin Hercules was the whole reason he was even hired. Neither Thomas nor James we're even decent at their jobs, but they needed to be here.

"Watch yourself, James," Alexander warns. "I'm sure he's around, he pops up just when I think I'm getting some peace." 

Madison doesn't look convinced or reassured, but he stalks off into the direction of Jefferson's office. Alexander rolls his eyes, and continues his descent to his friend's office. He pushed open the door, only to find John asleep on his desk. 

Walking over, Alexander takes a picture, then promptly tugs on John's ponytail. Laurens wakes up and falls out of his chair with a groan, Hamilton snickering all the while. Until he feels a hand grip his ankle and he's yanked to the ground, it's John's turn to snicker. 

They both struggle to get up. Both of them shoving each other back down so that they could get up first, cursing each other profusely. John finally shoved Alex down by his head, and moved a reasonable distance away, near his large office window, laughing his damn head off. Alexander pulled himself up and walked over to his friend, he went white at what he saw out the window. 

Thomas Jefferson was being escorted to the parking lot in a less than friendly way, with a gun to his back. 

"Oh, fuck me." Alexander curses. 

John turns to the window. 

"God damnit." 

They both spring into action, John reaching to grab the gun he keeps duct taped to the underside of his desk. Alex sprinting to his office to do the same. They meet together in Washington's office to relay the information. 

"John, go make sure Madison is secure. We can't have both of them taken." Washington orders firmly. John responds with a curt nod and rushes off. 

"Alexander, go after Thomas, don't let them get far. Call Peggy, have her check our security cameras to see if she can catch a license plate." 

"Yes, sir." Alexander assured, and then promptly left the office. He pulls out his phone and hits the contact "Golden Girl", setting a brisk pace towards the elevator. 

"Y'ello?" Peggy answers, cheerful as always. 

"It happened." 

"Ugh, so you mean we actually have to work now?" 

"Afraid so," Alex quips. 

"Fine," Peggy huffs. "What do ya need from me?" 

"A license plate, description, anything really. We got no leads, besides the perpetrator wearing a black hoodie paired with matching gloves, how much more cliche could you get." Hamilton rolls his eyes, finding the sound of Peggy's nails typing her keyboard oddly comforting. 

"Yeah these guys are super cliche, even more than you think," Peggy laughs. "White van, tinted windows. Shouldn't be too hard to find them. License number 29THD03." 

"Thanks, Pegs." 

"Mhm." 

Alexander ends the call and enters the elevator, pushing the lobby button frantically. He drops his bag onto the floor, and fishes out his gun. It's a simple Beretta M9A3, fit with a suppressor and 17 rounds, no need to cock it while it's off safety; it's quick and efficient, perfect for Alexander. The elevator doors open, and he steps out, leaving the bag behind. 

Hamilton rushes to the parking lot, just in time to see the crappy white van speed out of the parking complex. He curses under his breath and makes his way to his car, unsurprised to find Lafayette there waiting for him. 

Without a word, he tosses Lafayette his keys, puts his hair up, and slides into the passenger seat. Gilbert starts the car and then turns to look at Alexander expectantly. 

"White van, tinted windows, license number 29THD03. One known perpetrator, armed with what looked like some sort of pistol, most likely more firearms in the vehicle." Alex spews out. 

Lafayette nods and pulls out of the parking complex, immediately putting more pressure on the pedal when he catches a glimpse of the van. He turns to look at Alexander, who is staring straight ahead, hands professionally and comfortably gripping the gun which has been taken off it's safety. 

"Must you always be so serious?" Laf groans. "You're like this every single time." 

"I take this job seriously Laf, it's been the only constant in my life." Hamilton stresses. 

"It doesn't have to be," Gilbert reasons suggestively. 

"We are not talking about my love life during the middle of a job." Alex snaps. 

They tail the van for what seems like hours, not being able to do anything in broad daylight and on a busy street. The van knows they're being followed, trying to lose Alex's Lexus Hybrid in busy highways, but it's not like Alexander wanted to be inconspicuous about it. 

Eventually, they get in a secluded area and the sun has set about twenty minutes ago. These people really are idiots if they allowed themselves to be caught alone. Alexander unbuckles his seatbelt, and rolls down his window. He grips his gun tightly, and hangs out the side of the window, Lafayette holding onto his ankle with one hand while the other occupies the steering wheel. 

The wind roared fiercely, messing with Alex's hair despite the ponytail. Lifting his gun, he aims at the tire but realizes it's too dark to aim properly. He shouts loudly at Lafayette. 

"See if you can get me closer to a street light!" 

Gilbert complies, smoothly gliding the car towards an upcoming streetlight. Now that he has better lighting, Alex lines up his shot and pulls the trigger, the recoil pushing him back a tad. He brings himself back into the car, and relaxes into the seat. 

Lafayette slows down as the van loses control and swerves violently into the next street light. They exit the car quickly and cautiously make their way towards the wreck. Jefferson is still in there, and Alex is confident that whoever took him would have no issue with using him as a human shield. 

Lafayette has with him a Glock 17, no attachments. He wasn't able to grab anything better under the short notice of the incident. 

Alex and Laf each round the van on either side, Laf checking the driver's seat. He is unsurprised to see the driver bleeding rapidly from a large gash in his head, eyes wide open and unblinking. There doesn't need to be any words exchanged for Alex to figure out that he's dead. 

Next they each move to the sliding doors of the vans, not knowing if there was anybody else in there with Jefferson. Perfectly in sync with one another, they yank open the doors and immediately raise their guns. 

All they find is Jefferson passed out on the van floor, with his hands tied behind his back and a makeshift cloth gag stuffed in his mouth. 

Jefferson wakes up with a foul taste in his mouth, and his head aching. He wasn't hungover was he? No, it was something else.. 

"Let me guess, they asked you if the rag smells like chloroform?" 

Thomas whips around to the voice, which was a mistake because his head immediately throbs in protest. He groans and shuts his eyes tightly, rubbing at his temples. When he opens his eyes, he immediately remembers the events prior to his killer headache. 

Alexander Hamilton is sitting across from Thomas Jefferson in a nicer looking van than the one he was thrown into before. Alex is cleaning under his nails with a pocket knife, looking particularly bored. What scared Thomas shitless was the gun resting easy beside him, and a passed out James Madison in front of him. 

"Hamilton?!" Jefferson sputtered. "Look, I know we've had our differences in the past, but you don't, you don't have to do this!" He stammers. 

Alex raises an eyebrow and snorts. As tempting as it was, he wasn't going to kill Jefferson. His entire job is to babysit his ass. 

"Calm the fuck down. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm the one that saved your ass from that lousy mobster," Alex grumbled, beyond exhausted. 

After they found Thomas, Laf called John and had him bring a new van. They moved Thomas, and had to take James with them, so Laurens got the pleasure of hitting him over the head. Lafayette and John were now in the front together, leaving Alex with the passed out idiots. 

"Mobs- what?!" 

Hamilton sighed and looked Jefferson directly in the eyes. He really didn't want to be the one to tell Thomas the truth about his life. 

"Do you know what your parents do for a living?" Alexander started, poker face immediately going up. 

"Yes," Thomas answers. He continues when Hamilton raises an eyebrow. "They're lawyers." 

"No, Thomas," Alex said gently. "They were arms dealers." 

Thomas's eyes widen and he opens and closes his mouth like a fish, at a loss for words. Alexander can practically hear all the thoughts soaring through his mind. This kind of shit only happened in movies, arms dealers aren't a real life thing. And if they are, his parents sure as hell aren't! His parents are good people, they wouldn't hurt anyone. And Hamilton is trying to tell him that they're selling weapons for a living?! Wait. 

"W- were?" 

Shit, he wasn't meant to let that slip out. 

"Your parents were murdered earlier this week, Thomas." 

"No." 

"Their bodies were found last night." 

"No! You're lying! Why should I believe you?! You hate me!" Thomas screamed. 

He was right, he shouldn't believe Alexander. They hate each other, Jefferson and Hamilton; enemies since day one. Thomas had talked to his parents a few days ago, they couldn't be dead. They were on a business trip, that's what they told him! 

"Yeah, I do hate you, but I can't afford to right now," Hamilton confesses. "My job isn't to hate you, to spite you, or to lie to you," Alex reassures as gently as he can. "Right now, my job is to protect you. And if you don't believe me, I know someone who can convince you." 

Alex moves towards the front of the van, which has been closed off with a tacky curtain. He sees Lafayette sleeping in the passenger's seat, and John driving tiredly. He taps him on the shoulder, and Laf jerks awake and looks around alarmed, but relaxes when he sees it's just Alexander. 

"Can you go talk to Thomas?" Alex sighs. "He won't believe a word I say." 

Lafayette nods and moves to the back of the van, Alex takes his place in the passenger's seat. Alexander turns to look at his friend. John is blinking heavily, looking exhausted beyond belief. He looked like he was going to pass out from exhaustion, it had been a long day for him. 

He had to convince James to follow him, while he was in hysterics looking for his best friend. Of course James refused to come with him until he found Thomas, so John got the pleasure of knocking him unconscious with the barrel of his gun. Of course that led to having Hercules carry his unconscious cousin to an entire new van. John then had to tie James up, and drive for hours to where Alex and Lafayette were. 

"Pull over." 

"What?" John turned to look at him. "Why?" 

"You look like you're going to collapse any minute, let me drive," Alex offered. "Get some sleep." 

John agreed, and soon enough he was snoring away in the passengers seat. Alex has both hands on the wheel, trying to focus solely on driving. He had no idea where they were going, only following the address that Washington had given them. It's not like they could stay there for long anyways. 

They'd be found soon enough, and Alex was dreading it completely. He wasn't scared, no. His job couldn't afford it, Alex can never be scared. He was worried about the possibility of everything going to shit. His jobs have never involved babysitting a full grown adult. His jobs never lasted more than a week, this one would. 

Alex couldn't count on his fingers the amount of organizations, gangs, mobsters, or government officials that Jefferson's parents had pissed off. With them gone, no doubt they'd turn to Thomas next, despite him having no idea of his parents lives. 

He jumps in his seat when he hears a blood curdling scream, veering the van slightly. It's loud enough to wake up John, who was practically in a coma with exhaustion. He lets John take the wheel as he moves quickly to the back of the van. He sighs at the sight that greets him. 

A now conscious James Madison is hyperventilating, with Thomas and Lafayette trying desperately to calm him down. 

"Oh, he's awake," Alex deadpands, "joy." 

"Hamilton?!" 

"Yeah, hi." 

"Where am I?!" Madison breathes out. 

"If you'd calm down, I'd tell you," Alex answers. This is his least favorable part of these jobs. He couldn't afford to waste any time explaining the situation. The last time he had a job like this, he almost killed the man he was supposed to protect. And that man wasn't even Thomas Jefferson. 

"Could you not be such an asshole?" Jefferson cuts in. "He just woke up in a van with his hands tied behind his back!" 

Alex rolled his eyes and was about to snark a response, but the van stopped suddenly. Lafayette whipped out a knife, and easily sliced through Madison's bindings. Only James and Thomas flinched when John pulled the van door opened. 

John reached to grab Madison who was still rubbing at his wrists, and Alex reaches for Thomas. They pull them out of the van and walked towards the breathing mansion John parked in front of. Laf stayed behind to take any of their possessions from the van, it had to be dumped later and they couldn't leave anything behind. Anything that could help someone find them. 

"Do you have to hold me so tightly?" Thomas complained. 

"Yes," Alex answered, "if someone tries to shoot you, I could easily shove you behind me." 

Alex doesn't give Jefferson time to respond, he pushed open the doors to the building and walks in like he owns the place. John trails behind him with James in toe, Laurens doesn't even get to blink before Thomas is shoved into him. 

Hamilton raises his hands as the barrel of a gun meets the tip of his nose. The man with a gun doesn't say a word, he has a scar above each of his eyes, which are trained on Alex. He tries not to smirk when he sees a figure appear behind Scarface. 

"Well Nick, who do we have here?" the newcomer muses. Her long black hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail, jewelry jingling with every step she took towards "Nick". 

"They have the Jefferson kid," he grunts. 

"You weren't going to shoot them were you?" she asked, baby blue gloved hands gently pushing down the gun. "Blood stains are just impossible to get out of hardwood." 

"Well what do you suggest I do?" 

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked!" The girl gushed. 

In a flash, the woman snapped his neck and didn't even blink as he crumpled to the ground. Her matching baby blue blouse didn't even wrinkle. 

"Hey 'Liza." Alex grins, putting his hands down. 

"Hi guys!" She smiles, pulling her hair tie out. 

Eliza's job description greatly differed from anyone else she worked with. She didn't go on jobs like Lafayette or John, wasn't meant to protect anyone like Alex, didn't focus her skills in technology like Peggy, nor was she a weapons specialist like Angelica or Hercules. No, her work was much more dangerous. Eliza was a spy. 

Most of her time was spent undercover, gathering any and every piece of information the Timentes Taciti Syndicate might need. Timentes Taciti was well known, feared, and respected. There was no room for fuck ups. Their organization was very exclusive, their strength didn't come in numbers that's for sure. 

Every member brought a very special skill set to the table, and Eliza was proud to be one of the most valuable assets. And Peggy laughed at her for ever going to acting school, ha. 

"Oh my god you killed him!" Thomas screamed, next to a hyperventilating James Madison. 

"Yeah, Jefferson. You might have to get used to that," Alex dismissed, pulling Eliza in for a hug. 

Eliza pulled away from the hug, only to be pulled into another one. She didn't mind. In all honesty, she never knew if she'd be found out while undercover, so she always savored any moments with her friends. 

"How'd you know we'd be here?" John asked, embracing her tightly. 

"Thank Aaron." 

Alex groaned. He absolutely loathed Burr, he was the only wild card of Timentes Taciti. Burr was slimy, and never really played by the rules, but he had a way of knowing information. Information that even Eliza couldn't obtain, information that was too valuable to pass up. Nobody knew how he went about obtaining it, but nobody really questioned it. Well, nobody except Alex. 

"So, who was this guy?" Alex asks, gesturing towards the dead body.

"Some lower level at King's," Eliza shrugged. "Played him like a fiddle." 

"So, why did Washington send us here?" John cut in. 

"Follow me." She grinned. 

Eliza led them down a hallway, flicking a light switch as she went. The hallway had a bland yellow floral wallpaper, unattractively paired with the gorgeous hardwood flooring. The sound of Eliza's heels echoed throughout the empty estate, reaching every corner of the huge building. 

Eventually, they reached a door after many turns through the maze of a corridor. Eliza pushes it open, and Alex whistles at what greets him. It's a ginormous garage filled with vehicles varying from motorcycles, to sports cars, to huge family vans. The best part is that they're all a sleek black. 

"Washington thought that you should at least get some preference," she said. "All windows bulletproof, durable tires, each car fit with a first aid kit, spare tires, extra ammo, and a direct line to Peggy. Oh, and seat warmers!" 

There was a three-beat knock on the garage door, and Eliza promptly opened it with a remote she pulled out of her pocket. Lafayette walked into the garage and immediately ran for the Lamborghini Huracan. 

"Not a lot of storage in that car, Laf," John laughed. 

"True, but it is fast, non?" Laf grinned, sliding into the drivers seat. 

Alex rolled his eyes and made his way around the garage, surveying his options. He kept the fact that Thomas would be with him in mind. A motorcycle was off the table, so was any car with only two seats. Alexander wouldn't be able to stand being seated next to Jefferson, plus he'd be much safer out of the passengers seat. His eyes landed on a car he'd have no trouble with, but someone would. 

"Jefferson, come over here," Alex called behind his shoulder. 

Jefferson rushes over, still terrified to death. This entire situation had him acting like a house trained puppy. Alex actually hated it. 

"What do you think of this car?" Alexander asked. 

"S'fine." 

"Whatever car we leave with, you're going to spend the next few months in. Pick something you like, and I know you got a mouth on you, paired with a ridiculous opinion on anything." 

"Okay fine," Jefferson said. "A Honda Civic? Really Hamilton? You have a huge ass selection of million dollar cars and you choose a Honda fucking Civic?" 

"Alright, then you choose." Alex grinned. 

Jefferson walked slowly, surveying the garage. He took his sweet time weighing his options. Sure, Jefferson was ridiculously rich, but some of these cars he'd never seen in person. Eventually, he stopped in front of a car, and called Hamilton over. 

"Not bad." Alexander popped open the trunk of the sleek Maserati GranTursimo. 

Just as Eliza said, everything they needed was in the car, including the keys. Alex unlocked the car, and told Thomas to get into the back, behind the drivers seat. 

Alexander walked over to John, who was surveying the trunk's contents of his chosen vehicle. 

"A Mercedes Benz?" Alex asked. 

"Yup." John grinned, shutting the trunk. He pulled his best friend into a tight embrace. "Be safe," John whispered. 

"Always." He promised. 

Alex walked back to his car, and slid into the drivers seat. He turned on the ignition and drove out of the garage.


	2. Chapter Two

Alex drove slowly, making sure to keep a sizable distance between his car and John's. They've been driving for about five hours now, wanting to get at least a few states over before they took any action.

"Can you pull over?" Jefferson broke the silence, choked up.

"I'm not going to pull over just be—"

"Either pull over or I'll vomit in this car."

Alexander complied and pulled the car over to the side. Jefferson practically threw himself out of the car and vomited on the side of the road. Hamilton figured he should wait in the car, but immediately rushed out when he heard broken sobs.

Jefferson was sitting a mere few inches away from his own vomit, weeping into his hands. Alexander rubbed his back and moved him back towards the car. They both got in the back seat, and Alex just let Thomas cry.

"Shh, calm down," Alexander mumbled. He was never great at comforting people.

"I can't!" Jefferson screamed. "In the last 24 hours I've had a gun held to my back, been kidnapped, knocked unconscious, found out my parents were murdered, and watched someone die!"

"You were doing fine earlier," Alexander replied.

"It's called being in shock!" Jefferson snapped. "We've been driving in silence for hours, how was I not going to think about what the fuck happened today?!"

"Look Thomas, I'm not going to say I know how you feel, because I don't." Hamilton confessed. "This is not going to be an easy transition for you. It's okay to be terrified and lost, maybe even numb. But right now you just need to trust me."

"Am I ever going to have my life back?" He choked.

"Honestly, you're never going to be the same again. And I know I'm doing a shit job at trying to make you feel better, but you need to hear the truth right now. There's no use sugarcoating this." Alexander sighed.

He grabbed Thomas's hand and looked into his tearful eyes.

"People want you dead, your parents were not good people, seeing death around you is inevitable, you're never going to feel normal again, and I'm going to keep you safe."

"Why do people want me dead?!" He wailed. "What did I do?"

"That's the fucked up part, you didn't do anything. Your parents pissed off a lot of powerful people, and now that they're dead, you're the next one to turn to." He paused. "Hundreds of people want you to pay for your parents mistakes."

"Will you really protect me?"

"Yes."

"What about James? He's my god-brother, we've been attached at the hip since we were kids."

"John is keeping him safe, I promise." Alexander reassured. "Right now, just focus on evening out your breathing."

So they sit there almost silently, Jefferson's labored breathing was the only thing that could be heard. Eventually, his tears stop and his breathing is no longer frantic.

Alexander looked at him worriedly. "Are you feeling better?"

"No," he mumbled.

"Figured," Hamilton sighed. "Is it okay if we get back on the road?"

Jefferson nodded numbly as he buckled his seat belt. Hamilton smiles sadly at him and moved back to the driver's seat. He wasn't surprised to see John also pulled over, waiting for him.

Hamilton pulled back onto the road, sparing a few glances at Jefferson through his rear view mirror. He looked completely lost and appeared to be completely drained of any of his confident demeanor that always pissed off Alexander.

Hamilton grabbed his jacket from the passengers seat, and threw it back to Jefferson. "Hey, get some rest okay?" 

"Kay," he responded, draping the jacket over his lap.

Hamilton put a bit more pressure on the pedal, figuring John could drive behind him this time around. After a few minutes of silent driving, Jefferson's snores filled the car.

Alexander didn't know how to feel about this assignment. He should be prepared, he'd been anticipating this ever since he met Thomas. Not to mention, this wasn't his first assignment of this nature. He had played babysitter more than a few times, but this time was different.

It was different because all of his other assignments were familiar with this life. A life of death, guns, gangs, mobsters, you name it. Jefferson was not. Another thing that set this job apart from his past ones, was that he knew Jefferson on a personal level.

Never before did he exchange daily email banters with someone he was going to risk his life for. Hamilton wasn't friends with Jefferson, but he was certainly a constant in his life. They have been so called "enemies" for about five years.

Not that he had, but if Alex ever failed a job he wouldn't feel necessarily bad for the person he was meant to protect. Sure, he'd be disappointed in himself, but it's not like they didn't deserve the bounty anyways. This time, he would care if Jefferson died. He was innocent in all of this, and as much as he hates to admit it, a part of Hamilton's fucked up life.

He's seen countless people kick the bucket, but Hamilton isn't sure he'd be able to handle watching Jefferson die. Thomas also had a personal connection to everyone at the Syndicate. Sure, he got bitch-slapped by Angelica, but hell even she would be sad if he passed.

Alexander decided to get out of his mind and put some music on. He didn't worry about waking up Jefferson, he went out like a light. He settled for Blondie, and slapped the steering wheel along with the beat.

He was too quickly interrupted with a call from John. Hamilton turned down the volume with a huff and answered the phone.

"What's up?" Alexander asked.

"This car has been with us ever since we got back on the road."

"It's a busy freeway John, we'll only have to worry if he follows us on the next few exits."

"Thought so too, but it's Laf's Huracan and that's not Laf in the drivers seat," John replied grimly.

"Shit. Keep an eye on the car, I'll call Peggy." Hamilton hung up the phone.

Alexander spared glance at his rear view mirror and sighed. This was going to be a hell of a job. He scanned the various buttons littering the dashboard and figured the yellow one with a sunflower was a safe bet.

Peggy answered immediately. "What's up Alex?"

"You have trackers on all of our cars right?"

"Yeah."

"Where's Laf's Huracan?" Hamilton stressed.

"Right behind you guys. Whats going on?"

"According to John, Laf's not behind the wheel."

"Well that's problematic."

"Sure is," He groaned. "Have any idea where Laf is?"

"According to his watch, he's also in the Huracan," Peggy hummed.

Each member of the Timentes Taciti Syndicate wore a smart watch at all times. Said watch had a tracker that only Peggy had access to. To access the locations, not only was a password needed, but a series of timed math questions had to be answered. Peggy double majored in applied mathematics and computer science. Oh, and it's never the same password for more than a day.

"Well that makes this easier, thanks Pegs."

Hamilton ended the call, and turned at the exit. He saw that John followed suit, and of course so did the Huracan. He turned around briefly to look in the back and Jefferson sleeping. Alex turned his gaze back to the road, but reached his arm back towards Jefferson.

"Hey, wake up," Hamilton huffed, smacking Jefferson's thigh.

Jefferson jerked awake. "Wha? What's goin' on?" He slurred.

"Climb your perky ass up here and take the wheel."

Jefferson sat up and looked out the window incredulously. "We're in the middle of the road. There's cars behind us!"

"It's just John, now c'mon."

So Jefferson oh so gracefully climbed up to the passengers seat and took a hold of the steering wheel.

"Okay we gotta do this quick," Hamilton said.

Alexander practically threw himself into the back, and Jefferson immediately slid over to the drivers seat and put his foot on the pedal.

"Where am I going?" Jefferson asks.

"Just keep driving straight. Flash the left blinker and pull over a bit to the right," Hamilton replied, cocking his gun.

Thomas definitely heard the gun. "What's going on?!"

"Just do what I said."

Jefferson complied, and soon enough John was in front of them and Alex got a better look at the Huracan. He quickly evaluated their situation.

He couldn't just shoot the car, especially on this road. He saw the camera on that street light. Well, he could always call and have Peggy take care of it. Even so, it was their companies car. It was fit with ballistic glass and durable wheels. Wait, their companies car!

"Jefferson, press the button with a sunflower on the dashboard!"

He does as he's told and jumps slightly in his seat when the youngest Schuyler answered.

"Back so soon?" Peggy chirped.

"Peggy, you literally suck," Hamilton groaned.

She laughed. "Finally figure it out, dumbass?"

"Just shut the damn car off."

"Yeah, yeah. Bye dumbass, bye Thomas!"

Hamilton watched with amusement as the Huracan's headlights shut off and stop so suddenly the driver violently jerked forward in his seat. If he wasn't wearing the seat belt, he probably would have slammed into the windshield. The man in the car composed themselves and tried to start the car up again to no avail.

If Alexander was by himself, he would undoubtedly already have that man spilling red from his head. Unfortunately, he had Thomas to think about, every action he took needed to have Jefferson in mind. The man exited the car, and swiftly moved towards the trunk, undoubtedly to use Lafayette as leverage. 

"Stop the car. Once I'm out lock the doors and protect your pretty little head." Hamilton rattled off to Jefferson quickly as he threw the car door open. 

As he stepped out into the middle of the street, he wasn't surprised that Laurens was right behind him, he assumed Madison had instructions similar to Jefferson's. The man that Alexander had dubbed "inconvenience" had stepped out from behind the Huracan, with a hand-tied up Lafayette. Hamilton and Laurens both raised their guns, looking particularly bored. The inconvenience had Lafayette in front of him as a mock human shield, with a gun to his head. Despite his current situation, Laf did not seem phased. 

"Hand over the Jefferson kid, and you can have your obnoxious Frenchman back." The inconvenience huffed out. 

Unsurprisingly, that offended said Frenchman. "I am not obnoxious! If you would get to know me, you would see that I am a delight to be around." 

"Its true," John agreed. "His crème brûlée is to die for." 

The casual conversation was such a contrast to the current situation they were in. Almost everyone involved had a gun pointed at them, excluding Alexander and John.

The stranger did not have plenty of patience it seemed. "Shut the fuck up! I'm not joking, if you don't give me Thomas Jefferson I will shoot this little shit."

Hamilton grimaced. "Ooh, you shouldn't have called him that." 

Lafayette stomped on the man's foot, while simultaneously throwing his head back and successfully hitting him in the nose. Getting hit in the nose will make your eyes water, and hurts like a bitch. It seemed like the stranger also lacked in pain tolerance, because he immediately dropped his gun in favor of clutching his nose. One Lafayette ducked, a shot rang out and the man dropped to the floor, lifeless. The bullet between the eyes could only mean Alexander was the one to take the shot.

"What the hell happened that ended up with you stuffed in a trunk by this amateur?" Hamilton asked, walking back over to Thomas. 

Lafayette snapped the rope around his hands, and trailed behind Alexander and John. "Well, I was on my way back to the office, but I stopped at 'McDonalds' I think it is called. Either way I do not understand why it is so popular here in America, it was awful. I mean really! How can one 'fry' have that much salt-"

"Laf," John stresses. 

"Right, sorry. I do not know for sure but I am assuming while I was in the restroom, that man over there," he gestured vaguely to the body, "put something in my drink," He said. "I was originally in the back seat, but he told me I talked too much and decided to put me in the trunk."

"Charming story," Alexander drawled, "but you really should head back to the office now. You might give Mulligan a heart attack if you're away for much longer." 

At the mention of his boyfriend, Lafayette quickly hugged both Alex and John before sprinting to his car. The roar of the car as it drove off was loud and powerful, and the exhaust that was left behind wasn't appreciated by John nor Alex. It would have been convenient if Laf would dump the body on his way back, but his headlights were already out of sight.

"So," Laurens began, "what are we going to do with the body?" 

"Well Laf sheds as much as a golden retriever, so no doubt his DNA would be all over this scene," Alexander pointed out. "Hmm, call Eliza. I'm sure she has someone in the FBI. I'll call Peggy and make sure any nearby cameras are taken care of."

Laurens nodded at his instructions and walked off to his car, Hamilton did the same. He knocked on the window, and Jefferson poked his head out from underneath the driver's seat. Jefferson quickly unlocked the car and pulled Hamilton into an embrace. Hamilton, never one for affection, simply patted him on the back as reassurance. 

"God, I thought something happened to you." Thomas breathed. 

Alexander knew they were under completely different circumstances than when him and Thomas were usually together, but the sudden shift in their dynamic made him more than uncomfortable. Just a week ago, Jefferson hid the break room's instant coffee on top of the fridge just to spite the younger man. And now he has him in a bone breaking hug. 

"What, do you really think so little of me?" Hamilton teased with a small smile. 

Jefferson didn't appreciate the comment it seemed. "I'm serious, Hamilton. I heard a gunshot and I assume the worst." 

"Thomas," Hamilton sighed, "As fucked up as it is, I'm good at what I do. Some asshole with fucking roofies isn't going to kill me, okay? Right now, we need to worry about your safety. Not mine, not John's, and not Lafayette's." 

"What about James?"

Alexander groaned. "Yes, he'll be kept safe." He pulled out of the embrace and stepped aside so Thomas could get out of the car. "Now, get in the back and let's see if you can get at least an hour of sleep in this time." 

Jefferson nodded with a yawn, realizing how exhausted he was, and how he barley got to sleep for half an hour. Hamilton sighed and slid into the driver seat. He decided to leave Peggy a text message instead of calling her, he didn't feel up to having a conversation at the moment. This is not the most drained he's been because of an assignment, but this was different. 

It was the first day of protecting Thomas Jefferson, and he's already had two run-ins with individuals that made it abundantly clear what they want with Jefferson. He fears that this job will be endless. Sure, his syndicate had a wide range of connections to people in high places, but they're just the one syndicate. A small syndicate at that.

He has no idea how far the rage targeted at Jefferson's parent's spreads, arms dealers are nutritiously known for ruffling some feathers. Alexander can only hope that their international trade partners have better things to do than go after their dead scammer's son. Even with that small sliver of hope, Hamilton hates to admit that he might be in over his head. 

Dangerous people all over North America want Thomas Jefferson dead. Countless of gangs, syndicates, politicians, mobs, and the list goes on. And they only backing Thomas has is a 9 member syndicate. The odds aren't particularly in their favor. Hamilton isn't too ecstatic about the idea of protecting Jefferson for years to come. The only way this ends is with Jefferson six feet under, or somehow making peace with the thousands of people that want him six feet under. 

Right now, Alexander can only hope that they find a miracle. And by "they" he means Eliza and Peggy. As mentioned before, Eliza has connections all over the place, its only a matter of time before they stumble upon some new information that work in their favor. Even with Peggy putting all of her time into digging deep in all of the Jefferson's work, they only know the bare minimum. It's damn impressive to cover your tracks well enough to throw Peggy off your scent. 

According to Peggy, there's just something that doesn't add up about all of the transactions made in the past. Not about the selling of the various weapons, no that all checked out. No, it was the issue about their profits. They didn't make nearly as much money as the spent. It isn't cheap to make weapons ranging from handguns to fucking flamethrowers. So how did they afford it all?

Alexander spared one last glance at Jefferson, now passed out across the back seats. He could only hope once they uncovered every secret, this job would get easier. Until then, they all needed to be prepared for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading. Comments give motivation and make my heart happy! :)


	3. Chapter Three

Jefferson awoke with a groan, wiping the drool from his face with his sleeve. As he tiredly absorbed his surroundings, his feeling of exhaustion was quickly replaced with fear. He didn't find himself laid out in the backseats of Hamilton's Maserati. Instead he was sprawled out on a hotel bed, tucked under the covers. Thinking logically, it didn't appear to Thomas that he was in any form danger.

The hotel room seemed nice, there was an enormous window with a gorgeous view. The street lights, car lights, and illuminated buildings provided a vibrant atmosphere. Thomas couldn't help but find comfort in it. This city was loud, bright, and seemingly never slept. Just like the Big Apple. He also couldn't help but feel homesick. He doesn't even know if he'll ever see New York again. 

"I swear I'm not lying!" 

Well that was an unfamiliar voice. Thomas glanced around the sizable room, and spotted a door that didn't look like it led out into the hallway. It was slightly ajar, so he quietly walked over. He didn't dare to peek through the crack in the door, not wanting to risk being seen. 

"And why should I believe you?" 

Okay, so that was Hamilton's voice. That put Jefferson at ease, knowing nothing would happen to him as long as Alexander was near. The woman spoke again, Thomas decided to continue eavesdropping.

"Eliza told me to come find you!" She pleaded. 

"See, Maria. The thing is I would absolutely love to believe you, but that's not enough proof." Hamilton hummed. "For all I know, you could have found her out." 

"Fine! You want proof?" She all but growled. 

"Isn't that what I just asked for?" Hamilton snarked. 

The woman, who Thomas now knows is named Maria, snapped. 

"I know about Philip." 

The silence that followed was eerie and tense. Jefferson decided to move back towards the window. He sat in front of it and hugged his knees to his chest. He could faintly still hear the conversation, though he couldn't make out what they were saying. 

Thomas doesn't know how long he sits by the window, just watching the cars drive up and down the streets. Apparently it was long enough. He heard Alexander emerge from the room, and shut the door forcefully. 

Jefferson turned around and opened his mouth to greet him, but was harshly cut off. 

"Why do you think it's okay to eavesdrop?" He whisper-screamed hotly.

"I- wha- how did you know?" Thomas stuttered. 

Hamilton scoffed. "You're not exactly light on your feet." 

"I'm sorry." He murmured. 

Hamilton didn't answer. Instead he moved to sit near Thomas in front of the window. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Jefferson found it rather uncomfortable, so he was understandably relieved when Alexander broke it. 

"So," he started, "how much of that conversation did you hear?" 

Thomas hesitated. "Enough to ask who Philip is." 

"Hm," Hamilton mused. "Yeah, you don't need to know the answer to that. Ask anything else." 

Okay, so this 'Philip' was a sensitive topic. He found that odd. Even before this whole, well Thomas had no idea what to call it. This whole situation? Anyhow, Alexander Hamilton has always been an open book, as far as he could tell. Jefferson decided to keep that in mind. 

"Alright. Who was that woman in there?" 

"Claims her name is Maria." Hamilton glanced back towards the door where she was being kept. "She also claims that Eliza is in a compromising situation, and that she 'didn't know where else to go'." 

"Do you believe her?" 

"Well, she does know things. Things kept strictly between Eliza and I," he sighed. "I'm just waiting for Peggy's background check on her, and to see if we hear from Eliza soon." 

Before Thomas can respond, a blood curdling scream was heard from Maria's room. Alexander rushes over and Thomas trails behind him. They burst through the door and Alexander immediately rushes to her side. 

She was passed out over the table, her long hair splayed out wildly. Everything about her seemed unnatural, her entire body was lurched forward, and her wrists were handcuffed to the back of her chair. He watched as Hamilton checked for a pulse. 

"She's alive." Hamilton said too nonchalantly for Jefferson's liking. 

Jefferson was still horrified, the scream still ringing in his ears. "What happened to her?" 

"Hell if I know," Hamilton responded. "Hey wait, doesn't James have some medical experience?"

Jefferson barked out a humorless laugh. "Hardly. He went to med school for 3 years and then dropped out." 

"Good enough," Hamilton shrugged.

Hamilton moved to exit the room, and Jefferson had no choice but to follow. He spared one last glance at Maria before he closed the door. 

"So, where are we?" Jefferson asked as he trailed behind Hamilton. 

Hamilton walked towards the only other door in the room and slid in his hotel key in and pushed the door open into the large hallway. "Minneapolis," he answered. 

Even though they were no longer in New York, he didn't feel safe just walking around a hotel. According to Hamilton, people all over the country want Thomas dead. If that woman- Maria was her name, was able to find them, who's to say someone else couldn't?

Jefferson hesitates at the doorway, looking around the hallway. "I- are you sure I'm safe here?" 

Hamilton turned around to look back and him. He smiled appraisingly before turning back around and continuing down the hallway. "You're fine, Martha owns this hotel." 

"Martha who?" Jefferson asked, following. 

"Washington," he replied, pulling out another room key and opening the door in front of him. Laurens and Madison were only a few rooms away from them it seemed. 

Jefferson walked into the room slowly, marveling at the interior. He had to admit, Martha had impeccable taste. Maybe if he gets out of this alive, she could help him redecorate Monticello. He would have liked to spend more time admiring the entrance, but it was cut short when he heard Hamilton speak. 

"Huh." 

"What?" Jefferson asked, moving further into the room to stand next to Hamilton. "Oh." 

"'Oh' indeed." 

To say the sight Jefferson was greeted with was a surprise was an enormous understatement. Clothes were scattered all around the room, including two pairs of boxers. John Laurens and James Madison were cuddling and sharing a duvet, despite there being two queen beds available. 

Hamilton pokes Jefferson in his side. "Wake them up," he whispers. 

Jefferson whispers back. "No! You wake them up!" 

"That's your naked best friend!" 

"And that's your naked best friend!" Thomas retorted. 

Hamilton grumbled a liter of curses under his breath as he walked over to Laurens' side of the bed. Jefferson watched as he yanked hard on the man's ponytail. There was a knife to Hamilton's throat in a flash, (where Laurens got it from, he'd never know). Once Laurens saw who it was, he turned beet red and drew the knife back. 

"Both of you in my room in five minutes," Hamilton sighed tiredly. "Also we're talking later," he said, sounding rather unimpressed. 

Before Laurens could get a word out, Hamilton grabbed Jefferson's wrist and dragged him out of the room. Even though the walk back to their own room was short, Thomas found the silence rather uncomfortable.

Once at their room, Hamilton sighed dramatically and collapsed on his bed. His face was stuffed into the pillows, and he was mumbling angrily. 

"Uh, are you okay?" Jefferson asked awkwardly, moving to sit on the edge of Hamilton's bed. 

"Peachy." Hamilton grumbled. 

"Did you know they were going to.." he trailed off. 

Hamilton lifted his face out of the pillow and shifted to lay on his side. "Well, I mean kinda." 

"Kinda?" 

"I don't know how you haven't noticed," Hamilton snorted. "John has the biggest crush on Madison." 

Thomas' eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Really?!" 

"God, the amount of times I had to listen John rant on and on got exhausting." 

"So, why're you upset?" 

Hamilton sighed. "I mean, I've never seen John pine for someone like that. And he's not very good with relationships. He's not a one and done kind of guy. I just wish they had gotten together under better.. circumstances," he continued. "He just can't afford any distractions right now." 

"I get that, and I can't help but think their relationship is going to crash and burn," Jefferson commented. 

"Why?"

"James is kind of, in a similar boat. He's never been good at committing to anything. I mean he didn't drop out of medical school because the course was too much, he just got bored. And for the foreseeable future, I guess Laurens and James will be attached at the hip. Any bumps in their relationship or communication could potentially put them both in danger." 

"Exactly!" Hamilton exclaimed. "This isn't the time to be experimenting with whatever it is their relationship is now. Finally we can agree on something." 

Their conversation was cut short when Laurens and Madison walked in. They shuffled into the room meekly, and neither of them even tried to hide the various marks covering their necks. Thomas fixed James with a look that meant they would be having their own conversation later on. 

Laurens cleared his throat. "So, what did you need us for?" 

"Actually I just needed Madison. Follow me," Hamilton said, moving towards the room where a now unconscious Maria was being kept. 

Thomas and John trailed behind, and followed Hamilton into the room. Thomas cringed at the sight of the unconscious body. I mean it was better than a dead one, but still. 

"Who's this?" Laurens asked simply. 

"Dunno, said her name was Maria," Hamilton answered. "Anywho, when I left the room she screamed and when I came back she was blacked out." 

"So what did you need from me?" Madison cut in. 

"Jefferson said you have some medical experience, any clue what might have happened?" 

Madison didn't answer, instead he just moved towards the body. Hesitantly, he checked around her neck for a pulse. Next, he shifted her so she was leaning back against the chair. He felt around her chest and ribs. 

"Well her heartbeat is irregular, she has some muscle spasms, and her breathing is very labored," Madison explained. 

"Okay, so what's your diagnosis?" Hamilton asked. 

"Well I can't actually give a diagnosis, but to me it seems like some sort of electric shock." 

John frowned and moved to examine around the chair and her handcuffs.

Hamilton scoffed. "I didn't shock her, if that's what your thinking." 

Laurens opened his mouth to respond, but was cut short by Maria groaning and shifting slightly. 

"Okay, both of you out," Laurens said, shoving Madison and Jefferson out of the room.

"What? Why?" Jefferson asked, as he stumbled out after Madison. 

"Did you forget nobody's supposed to know where you guys are?" Hamilton chastised, slamming the door. 

As soon as the door shut, Hamilton turned around and leaned against it. Him and Laurens shared a look as they waited for Maria to wake up. 

As if on cue, Maria woke up with a harsh and broken gasp. Immediately she jerked her hands up and tried to claw at her neck, but failed to do so with the handcuffs holding her back. Said handcuffs were digging into her wrists the more she tried to reach her throat. 

"Woah, woah, woah! Stop it, you're gonna make your wrists bleed!" Laurens exclaimed, moving to grab her hands. 

"Get it out! Get it out of me!" She seethed. 

"You need to calm down," Hamilton said sternly. 

The commanding tone must have registered in Maria's mind because she immediately stopped thrashing and shut her eyes tight. So tight it looked painful. 

Laurens placed a hand on her chest, and began counting aloud in order to help her even out her breathing. Eventually, she began counting along with Laurens as she unclenched and opened her eyes. 

"There we go," Laurens said gently. 

Maria let out one last shuddering breath before she spoke. "Please help me." 

Hamilton met her gaze. "Well, we don't know what we're supposed to be helping with. Let's start with what caused you to pass out." 

"The chip. H-he put a chip in my neck. Everyday that I'm not back, he shocks me. Each new day increases the voltage," she confided. "God, you need to get it out of me please! Please! If I'm away too long he'll shock me until I die". 

Hamilton regarded her carefully. "Well, I doubt we could get it out of you, if it was an injection. But we do have someone that could disable it." 

"And who is 'he'?" Laurens cut in. "We're going to need names." 

"Reynolds. James Reynolds. His entire organization is fucked up. And that's where Eliza is right now," she informed. "I don't know why, but security around there has been increased ten fold. Eliza is good, but she's not that good."

"Okay, and who exactly are you to James?" Hamilton questioned. 

Maria blanched. "W-what?" 

"Well I'm sure he wouldn't inject a chip in you with the intention to kill if you were a nobody," he reasoned. "So, who are you to him?" 

"I'm his fiancée." 

"I don't see a ring," Laurens piped up, now leaning against the wall.

"I doubt that his beloved fiancée would throw him under the bus so easily," Hamilton hummed. 

Maria all but cackled. "I don't love him! God, who could ever love him?! He's awful! And as for the ring situation, he doesn't believe on spending money on anyone that isn't himself." 

"So, why are you engaged, exactly?" 

"You do what you need to do to survive", she shrugged. "Being respected in his Syndicate is better than the life I was living before." 

"Must've been a hell of a life you were living before if you feel as if an abusive as fuck relationship is better," Hamilton said.

"You've got no idea," she mumbled. "Now, will you let me go, or at least take me to whoever can turn this damn chip off?" 

"Not until we hear from Eliza." 

"We just did," Laurens announced, holding up his phone. "She's all good, it'll take her a bit longer than expected to get out, but she can get out. Also confirms that Maria isn't lying."

"Before you threaten me or anything, I know that the Jefferson kid and Madison are with you. Eliza told me," Maria confessed.

Hamilton studied her carefully. Eliza knew the importance of valuable information, her entire job was gathering intel. Hamilton trusted Eliza with his life, just like everyone else in their Syndicate. Well, except maybe Burr. Regardless, he had no choice but to trust her judgment. 

"You must be pretty special to her then," Hamilton concluded, unlocking her handcuffs. 

"I've got some bandages for those," Laurens said, eyeing Maria rubbing at her free wrists. 

"I'd like that, thank you." She smiled for the first time. 

Hamilton turned and pushed the door open out into the hotel room. He saw Jefferson and Madison talking quietly with each other, of course they stopped when they noticed the other people entering the room. 

"Alrighty, we're making a slight detour to help out Maria here!" Hamilton announced. 

"Where are we going?" Madison asked. 

"To see Peggy," Laurens cut in. 

"Okay, and where is she exactly?" Jefferson inquired. 

"Seattle." Hamilton answered. "We better get going, we're kinda on a time crunch." He turned to address Laurens and Madison. "Pack your shit, meet back here in 10."

An already complicated mission just got way more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter that didn't take a month to upload? I surprise even myself sometimes.

James Madison had always felt like he could never find himself. He always felt as if he was never good enough. Growing up, he was hidden behind Thomas' shadow. He didn't blame Thomas of course, they were still best friends and loved each other like brothers. Thomas was so charismatic, glamorous, and outgoing. Everything James was not. They seemed like polar opposites, but they worked well together. 

However, looking back on their friendship now, James isn't so sure that they did. Not only did he hide behind Thomas' shadow, he followed it. In high school, whichever club Thomas joined, James followed in tow. Was Thomas' favorite movie Titanic? What a coincidence, it was also James' favorite movie. He dropped out of medical school for the sole reason that Thomas decided on law school. And now he was a miserable office temp, while Thomas received promotion, after promotion.

Madison had finally decided that his friendship with Jefferson was far too taxing. He had no idea who he was, because he currently felt like a downgraded photocopy of his best friend. Now, he wasn't just about to throw a twenty-two year old friendship down the drain, Jefferson was far too important to him. So, Madison decided to talk to Jefferson.  
Maybe, Jefferson could help him find himself. Or maybe their friendship needed a break. 

So, he was on his way to Jefferson's office. Except he wasn't there. Madison decided to check the break room. On his way there, he ran into Hamilton. Madison didn't hate him per say, but Jefferson did, so go figure.

"What do you need, Madison?" Hamilton asked, rather irritated.

Madison needed to see Jefferson now. It took him almost their entire friendship to realize how fucked up it was, and then another entire year to muster up the courage to talk to said friend about it. 

"Have you seen Thomas?"

Hamilton rolled his eyes. "Have you checked his office? He's been sending me obnoxious emails non-stop."

"Of course I checked his fucking office!"  
Hamilton took a moment to respond. He fixed Madison with a gaze so fierce that he couldn't help but pale slightly. He didn't have the time to be scolded or be sent to Washington's office, he needed to find Jefferson.

"Watch yourself, James. I'm sure he's around, he pops up just when I think I'm getting some peace."

Instead of responding, Madison headed back towards Jefferson's office. Maybe he just ran to the bathroom? They share a lunch break, and it ended half an hour ago. Where could he be?

Walking into Jefferson's office, Madison walked over to the calendar hanging on the wall. Did he have something going on today that Madison didn't know about? Before he could confirm or deny his suspicions, he felt something beneath his feet. Looking down to see what he had stepped on, he was shocked to see it was his best friend's phone. That was more than worrying. Jefferson never went anywhere without his phone. As he bent down to pick up the phone, he heard someone enter the office. 

He heard the hard blow to the back of his head before he felt it. Just as quickly as the person entered, James Madison was down for the count. 

Madison woke up groggily. He moved to wipe at his eyes, but to no avail. Then he realized. The dull ache in the back of his head was prominent, and his hands were bound. Suddenly there were hands on him, so he did the only thing he could think of. He let out an ear-shattering scream. 

"Shh, James, you must calm down," a very thick french accent said, removing his blindfold.

"Lafayette?" Madison questioned, sitting up. 

Now that he was conscious and his face wasn't pressed into the floor, Madison took in his surroundings.  
He seemed to be in the back of a van, the floor was carpeted and severely lacking in seats. There was a tacky curtain separating the front and back of the van. Thomas and Lafayette were sitting near him staring at him worriedly. As he continued to scan the van, he saw something that made him want to shit his pants. 

"I- is that a g- gun?" Madison whispered. 

Lafayette looked down at his holster. "Merde. James, please calm down." 

It was a bit too late for that. Madison began hyperventilating, oblivious to his best friend's efforts to calm him down. The edges of his vision began to darken, and his ears started ringing. James felt himself beginning to black out, until he heard another familiar voice. 

"Oh, he's awake. Joy." 

"Hamilton?!" Madison breathed out.

"Yeah, hi."

"Where am I?"

"If you'd calm down, I'd tell you," Hamilton said, irritated as always. 

"Could you not be such an asshole?" Thomas interjected. "He just woke up with his hands tied behind his back."

Hamilton just rolled his eyes. Madison didn't have time to be annoyed by it (no matter how much he wanted to), because the van stopped. Before he could blink, Lafayette pulled out a knife and cut through the ropes holding his hands together. He rubbed them carefully, trying to ease the rope burn. The van door slid open, causing Madison to flinch away from said door and aforementioned knife. 

Before he could again ask what was going on, Madison was grabbed by his raw wrists and pulled out of the van by none other than John Laurens. Letting himself be practically dragged by the freckled southerner, Madison tried to wrap his head around what the fuck was going on. Too lost in his own mind, the conversation around him fell on deaf ears. 

When Madison came back to himself, Jefferson was being shoved into him. He looked up and- oh my god. There was a gun pointed in Hamilton's face, and Laurens stood protectively  
in front of the two Virginians. Madison clutched Jefferson's hand and squeezed tightly, the gesture was returned. 

"Well Nick, who do we have here?" A woman asked, seemingly to have appeared out of nowhere. 

"They have the Jefferson kid." 'Nick' answered. 

Madison could hear Jefferson's breath hitch, and he had to blink away tears. This stranger with a whole ass gun wanted something to do with his best friend. Madison hoped this was all a fucked up dream from deep in his subconscious. But the nails digging into his palm and his raw wrists said otherwise. 

"You weren't going to shoot them were you?" Madison let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when the gun was pushed down. "Blood stains are just impossible to get out of hardwood."

"Well what would you suggest I do?" 

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked," the vaguely familiar woman answered. Without missing a beat, she snapped the man's neck and he fell to the ground with a thud.

"Oh my god you killed him!" Jefferson screamed.

He just watched someone die. There was a dead body in front of him, and the only other person seemingly horrified by the fact was Thomas. Madison started to wonder if he should invest in an inhaler, because once again he was hyperventilating. 

He managed to calm down on his own this time, just in time to see Laurens embracing the woman. Madison now realized why she seemed so familiar. That was Elizabeth Schuyler. Sweet little Elizabeth Schuyler that would bring snickerdoodles to every board meeting had just killed someone. 

"How'd you know we'd be here?" Laurens asked. 

Elizabeth laughed. "Thank Aaron."

Aaron? Aaron Burr? The same Aaron Burr that Madison once had a movie night with? Not wanting to dwell on how many people in the office might be cold blooded killers, he shut his eyes tightly. Covering his ears, he tried to ease the sensory overload he felt approaching. 

Before he knew it, he was being tugged gently down another corridor by Laurens. Walking into a garage, he was presented with an enormous array of cars. Fear shot through Madison's heart again. He was being brought somewhere. He was literally being fucking kidnapped. No way he'd be aloud to go home, especially after he just witnessed a murder. 

He turned towards the garage door as it opened, nonplussed to find Lafayette strolling in with his usual buoyant gait. Barely registering the conversations going on around him, Madison sinks to the ground and stuffs his head between his knees. Letting out a shaky breath, he let the tears fall. 

Blood pounded in his ears, heart thundering in his chest. At this moment James regretted every haircut he ever got. He wished it was longer for the sole purpose of yanking it out. His shaking hands moved to rub at his temples. Soon, it's not just his hands that are shaking, it's his entire body. He wants to speak, he wants someone to calm him down. He can't. He feels as if he's being choked, his windpipe is closing up, he's suffocating he's-

"Hey, hey, hey. It's gonna be alright." 

James let the owner of the soft voice take his hands. Feeling an overwhelming amount of relief has he unclenched his eyes, he looked up. Concerned eyes in a freckled frame met his own. He let himself be brought to a car, he didn't care what kind. He let Laurens sit him down gently in the back seat. 

"I'll be right back, okay?" Laurens asked softly.

James couldn't do anything but nod numbly. 

He doesn't know how long he sat in the car, but it seemed to be long enough. Laurens opened the door to the backseat, and slid in next to Madison. 

"It's okay to let yourself cry," Laurens whispered tenderly . 

And that was all it took. Madison had never cried harder. He let Laurens take him in his arms, and he didn't care that he was soaking both of their shirts in tears and snot. He felt as if his sobs shook the car, maybe they did. He didn't know. All he cared about was crying until he couldn't anymore. 

The entire time, Laurens petted his head and whispered nonsense and reassurances. 

"Why am I here?" Madison croaked out into Laurens' shoulder.

"You're here to be kept safe." Laurens murmured. 

"Safe from what?"

Laurens winced. "Jefferson's parents were.. not the best of people. They died a few days ago, and the people that did it.. they're coming after Thomas now. You're just a conflict of interest."

Madison sniffed. "So, I'm here because of Thomas?" He could feel Laurens nod against him. 

Oh the irony. As soon as Madison realized how unhealthy his friendship with Thomas was, his life was put in danger because of said friend. James' fear was now mixed with anger. If their friendship wasn't taxing before, it sure as hell was now. He felt as his whole life, Thomas was unintentionally pulling the strings. He never had anything of his own, not even his own life. This right here, was a prime example. 

"I'm sorry you got dragged into this," Laurens said genuinely. 

"S'okay." 

"No it's not."

"Yeah," Madison agreed. "It's not." 

Madison felt a kiss being pressed to his temple before Laurens pulled out of the embrace. They stared at each other. Maybe James had a thing for freckles. That could be the first thing he decides for himself, and not something influenced by Thomas. 

Madison cleared his throat. "Where is Thomas?" 

"With Alexander," Laurens answered, moving to the front seat. "So we better catch up," he continued, throwing a thick blanket back to James. "Go ahead and get some shut eye, and don't worry. I'm a real careful driver." 

James realized just how tired he was. He decided to trust Laurens’ driving abilities. Trust Laurens. That's all he could really do at this point. So he laid himself out on the back seats, and tried his best to sleep. 

Madison is a light sleeper. He sits up as soon as he feels the car slow to a stop. Looking out the window, he sees that they're pulled over on the side of the road. He glances towards the driver’s seat and sees Laurens scrolling through his phone, looking rather bored. 

“Why are we pulled over? Where are we going?” Madison asked.

Laurens puts down his phone and gives Madison his full attention. “Waiting for Alexander, he’s pulled over behind us. And we’re heading to a hotel in Minneapolis. Hey, you wanna sit up here with me? I have some caramel popcorn,” he grinned.

“Uhm, alright,” Madison answered incredulously. 

He exited the back seat and moved to the passengers seat. The bag of aforementioned popcorn was offered to him. Madison took a handful wordlessly and popped one into his mouth. 

“Sorry I don’t have anything else for you to eat. You could probably order room service at the hotel though. Martha owns it, it’s the nicest hotel I’ve ever seen. You know Martha, right? Martha Washington? She’s real sweet, but you don’t want to piss her off. One time Alexander spilled paint on her hardwood, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that scared!” Laurens rambled.

“You talk a lot,” Madison commented, finishing his handful of popcorn.

“Yeah, sorry. I tend to ramble,” he said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Anyways, did you sleep well?” He asked, turning onto the road again after Hamilton. 

“I slept fine. Do you think I could ask you some questions?”

“Ask away.” 

“Why are we going to Minneapolis?” 

“There’s something in Minnesota we need to check out. Hopefully no detours are made.”

“Why are Thomas and Hamilton in a car together? Based on their past interactions, that doesn’t seem like the wisest choice.”

Laurens spared a glance over to Madison. “He’s keeping Jefferson safe. Just how I’m keeping you safe.” 

“Right. How many others are involved in.. this? There’s you, Hamilton, Elizabeth, and Burr.”

“Honestly? Everyone at the office besides the other interns and temps. Angelica and Peggy are involved too, but they don’t live in New York.” 

“Everyone? Even Herc-”

“Hold that thought,” Laurens interrupted, pulling out his phone. 

Madison watched as he hit call on a contact named “Bitch”. He could only assume it was Hamilton. He was surprised when the call was put on speaker. 

“What’s up?” Hamilton answered. 

“This car has been with us ever since we got back on the road.” Laurens replied. 

Madison spared a glance at the rearview mirror. There was a car tailing them a bit too closely. The car was also familiar, but Madison couldn’t figure out why.

“It’s a busy freeway John, we’ll only have to worry if he follows us on the next few exits.”

“Thought so too, but it’s Laf’s Huracan and that’s not Laf in the driver's seat.” 

That's why the car seemed so familiar. It was one of the numerous cars Madison had seen in that garage. It was indeed the sleek black sports car that he saw Lafayette run over to before his panic attack. 

“Shit. Keep an eye on the car, I’ll call Peggy.” And then the call ended. 

“What’s going on?” Madison questioned, frantically. 

“You trust me, right?” Was Laurens’ only response, passing Hamilton's Maserati. 

Madison didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” 

“Great. Would you take the wheel for me?” 

Madison reached over and took the wheel in his hands. 

“Once I get out, slide into the driver's seat and pull over. And once you do that, get under the seat,” Laurens instructed. “Okay?” 

“Yeah, I got this,” Madison whispered, mostly to himself. 

“Great. Be safe,” he said as he exited the car.  
Madison slid over to the driver’s seat and placed his foot on the gas. He spared one glance out the window to see Laurens. Doing as he was told, he pulled over and stopped the car.  
Shutting off all of the lights, he moved to try and get under the seat as instructed, but he found that the space underneath was too small. 

Frustrated, and quite literally fearing for his life, Madison needed to think quickly. With his heart pounding in his chest, he moved to the back seat and found it easier to hide back there. Stuffing himself under the seat as comfortably as he could, Madison shut his eyes and clenched his hands so tight his nails dug into his palms. 

The silence was overwhelming and eerie. James did not want- no could not be alone with his own mind right now. He wouldn’t consider himself an optimist, the worst out of every situation was all he could ever think. And what a situation this was. 

Madison assumed that the car would be soundproof. He was proven wrong when he heard the gunshot. He let out a sharp gasp and clenched his hands tighter. Now, he was an atheist, but at that moment James prayed to any god he didn’t believe in that everything was alright. Of course a gunshot and safety never had any correlation, but maybe he could hold on to hope just this once. 

He passed the time humming to himself. Refusing to be engulfed in silence. Now he doesn’t know how much time he passed, but the driver’s door had opened. 

“James?” he heard Laurens call out. Again, “James?” a bit more frantically. 

“I’m back here,” he managed to croak out, emerging from under the seats.

“Oh thank god.” He heard Laurens breathe, opening the car door to the back. 

“Are you alright?” Madison asked. 

“Yeah I’m fine. How are you?” Laurens countered, gently unclenching Madison’s hands. 

Madison looked down at his palms and was surprised to find a small amount of blood oozing from the indents where his nails had been. He tried to pull his hands away, but Laurens left an unyielding grasp on them, avoiding his palms. 

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Laurens frowned. “We can find you a stress ball or something, just don’t hurt yourself.” 

“Alright. I didn’t mean to,” he said softly. 

“Okay. Just.. be nicer to yourself.” 

Madison looked up to stare at Laurens. Even before this whole shit show, he needed to hear something like that. The longer he stared at the freckled southerner, the deeper appreciation he felt. If he was going to be stuck in a situation like this, he was glad he was stuck with someone as thoughtful as Laurens. 

“Why are you staring at me?” Laurens asked, rather bluntly. 

“Sorry.” Madison cleared his throat. “You're really nice.” Really? That's all he had to say? 

“Thanks,” Laurens laughed. “We should get back on the road. You could sleep some more if you want, or I have Mulan downloaded on my phone if you wanna watch that,” he offered. 

Madison chose the latter. 

Madison was gently shaken awake. 

“We're here,” Laurens whispered. 

A drive from New York to Minnesota is meant to be about twenty hours. But they made it in 15. If Laurens sped a bit, nobody needed to know. 

After watching Mulan, Madison was disappointed to find that Laurens had no other movies downloaded. So rather than watching it again, he settled for sleeping uncomfortably in the passenger's seat. 

Groaning, Madison unbuckled his seat belt and stretched his arms out. Glancing out the window, he saw that they were in a parking lot, and in the dim streetlights he spotted Hamilton’s seemingly empty Maserati. 

“How long have we been here?” Madison yawned. 

“About ten minutes. I had to help Alexander haul Jefferson's heavy ass to their hotel room. God, he was out like a light.” 

Madison rubbed at his eyes. “Yeah, he's a heavy sleeper,” he chuckled, getting out of the car. 

He was too exhausted to make conversation, so Madison just followed behind Laurens wordlessly. Happy to find comfort in silence for once. 

They entered their hotel room, and the onslaught of light Madison was greeted with made him feel much more awake. 

Squinting his eyes, he observed the room. It was gorgeous, and whoever designed it had a talent for interior decorating. Thomas would appreciate it, he thought. 

“So I know you just slept for like fourteen hours, so I don't know if you're tired or not,” Laurens started. “But I think this TV has Netflix, and you can just use Alexander's login. But just don't watch any romance movies on his account or anything, he has some weird vendetta against th..” 

Madison watched him as he rambled, and Laurens was none the wiser. His soft looking hair was pulled back into a ponytail, with strands of it sticking out wildly. When he smiled or laughed, his dimples complimented the freckles on his face. 

God those freckles. They were all over. They decorated the tip of his nose and dusted his cheeks. They surrounded his hazel eyes, and traveled up his arms. 

“James? James, are you listening?” Laurens giggled, snapping Madison out of his trance. 

Instead of answering, Madison surged forward and caught Laurens in a chaste kiss. 

“Is this okay?” Madison asked hesitantly.

Laurens- well he supposed he should call him John now. 

John nodded wide-eyed and cradled Madison's face, connecting their lips again. 

Madison doesn't know what led him to this point, besides having a literal bounty on his head. But he didn't care. Because the way John held him so carefully and kissed him so softly was everything he needed. 

He let John lead him to one of the queen beds. He let John straddle him and kiss him slow and sweet. He let his clothes be discarded around the foot of the bed. He let himself feel loved. 

James felt that he was maybe starting to find himself. And he maybe felt like it started with John Laurens.  
He let himself fall asleep in warm, protective, and comforting arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to shed some light on Madison. He's never given enough character, and I wanted to change that. Also I'm not very comfortable writing smut so that was the best you're gonna get. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please leave comments and kudos!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do my eyes deceive me? Or is that an update?! Hope you guys enjoy, sorry it took a while to get out!

Hamilton was this close to slamming his head on the steering wheel. Repeatedly. Much to Hamilton’s dismay, Maria and Jefferson did not get along. From experience, Hamilton knew that Jefferson loved to argue, and it also seemed that Maria had plenty of pent up anger. So ever since they left the hotel, they’ve been arguing about anything and everything.

“Why am I even back here with you?” Jefferson sneered. “I get why you’re back here, but why am I?”

“Excuse me?!” Maria fumed. “I should be the one sitting in the front!”

Hamilton groaned out of pure frustration. “Nobody’s sitting in the front. You both suck.”

“Hey!” They both protested.

“You know me, Hamilton! Who even is this random lady?”

“Random lady?!” Maria shrieked. “I’ll have you know that-”

“Both of you shut up!” Hamilton roared. “I need to make a call.”

Peggy already knew they were on their way, but she didn’t know all the details. Also, he would do anything at this point to talk to someone he actually liked. If his job didn’t send Hamilton to an early grave, it would probably be Jefferson and Maria. With a sigh, he reached for the sunflower button on the dashboard.

Attentive as always, Peggy picked up immediately. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Pegs. I got someone here, with a chip in their neck. It has some sort of timer. Every day she gets shocked, and each shock brings along a higher voltage,” he explained.

“You want me to disable it or something?”

“If anyone could do it, it's you.”

“Oh, Alexander, flattery will get you everywhere,” she laughed. “I can do it, but my equipment’s over at Angelica’s.”

“Alright, we’ll head there instead of your place. I’ll let you go now.”

“Wait. Why is John right behind you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I don't see any reason that you two need to be sticking together at this point. If you ask me, staying together makes it easier for all of you to get caught.”

“Well-” Hamilton started, before getting interrupted as if he wasn't a part of the conversation anymore.

“You were in Minneapolis for less than a day! Did you even check that safety deposit box like I asked you to?” She scolded.

“Well no, bu-”

“That's it. I'm telling John to turn around.” She decided. “What part of ‘I need to know what's in that deposit box’ did you not understand?”

And with that, Peggy disconnected the call.

As Alexander thought it through, he realized she was exactly right. Staying together put an even larger target on their back, if that was even possible. How could he not have noticed that?  
This job was completely fucking with Alexander's mind. Why? He didn’t understand. It just felt.. different.

He's never had someone else catch his own mistakes. Being on top of things was just part of his personality. As if in denial of his pure stupidity, Alexander began creating excuses.

Perhaps he subconsciously wanted to stay with John. For the sake of his sanity. As if the 9-5 “work” hours he spent with Jefferson weren’t enough, he was now his bodyguard if you will. And to top it all off, he was now the personal escort of the most obnoxious woman he had ever met.

“James and Laurens are leaving?” Jefferson questioned from the back seat.

Hamilton sighed. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” he protested weakly.

Hamilton the heartless bastard felt a surprising twinge of sympathy for Jefferson. Sure, he had gotten used to his friends (and himself) constantly risking their lives, but still. The worry would always be there. Hell, if Hamilton worried for his friends that know how to defend themselves and have all killed in cold blood..

He couldn’t even imagine how Jefferson was feeling. Madison was just as innocent in all of this as Jefferson. Neither of them chose nor deserve this life. Neither of them should have to wonder if the other would die without them.

Hamilton glanced in his rearview mirror, seeing that John’s car was already out of sight. “Would you like me to call him?” Hamilton offered.

“Yes.”

The phone rang twice until John picked up.

“You get yelled at by Peggy too?” John laughed.

“Nope, just a scolding,” he smiled. “Hey, can you give Madison the phone? Jefferson wants to talk to him.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Hamilton rather uncomfortably extended his arm back towards Jefferson, eyes locked on the road. Once he felt the phone slip from his hand, he placed it back on the wheel. He tuned out the conversation and let himself focus on the road. Watching for any signs of shifty behavior. A car staying with them for too long. It was a breath of fresh fucking air when he saw no signs of them being in immediate danger.

Even though this job had just started, he desperately wanted it to be over.

Turning around when he feels a tap on his shoulder, Hamilton takes the phone from a teary-eyed Jefferson.

“Are you alright?” Hamilton asked.

“No.”

Well, how was he meant to react to that? Hamilton went with trying to be a semi-decent person for once.

“Maria, how shit are your driving skills?”

The woman in question scoffed. “I’m great at driving.”

“Great.” He pulled over. “You’re driving for the time being,” he informed her, getting out of the driver’s seat.

“Where exactly am I driving us?” Maria unbuckled her seat belt and got out of the car.

“Just pull up maps on the display screen, and type ‘Angelica’ in the search bar. It’ll give you directions,” He rattled off, sliding into the seat next to Jefferson.

Jefferson glanced at him sparingly before turning to look out the window. Hamilton watched the tears fall from Jefferson’s eyes and roll down his cheeks as the car turned back onto the road.

Despite having Maria drive for the sole purpose of wanting to comfort Jefferson, Alexander hadn’t a clue on how to go about it. Never before had he comforted someone on the job. But he knew Jefferson. He knew how proudly he carried himself. How his pride would never allow the likes of Hamilton to witness him at an all-time low.

Now, Alexander understood that Jefferson’s pride would be the least of his concerns at the moment, but it was still offsetting.

“Are you alright?” Hamilton found himself asking that pretty frequently now.

Jefferson scoffed through his tears. “What do you think?”

“Madison is in safe hands, I promise.”

“That’s not what I’m crying about.” He snapped.

“Oh,” Alexander replied dumbly.

“That's all you have to say?”

“Fine. What happened? Other than… everything.”

Jefferson stayed silent for a moment. Alexander thought he wouldn’t say anything.

“James told me that this is all my fault.”

“What?”

“He told me that if he dies, it's on me.”

At first, Hamilton felt pity seep into his heart. Jefferson has learned and gone through so much in just a few days, none of which was his fault. Jefferson clearly worried for his friend, if the constant questions about Madison were any sort of clue. That pity quickly turned to anger. Jefferson was always worrying about Madison! ‘Is James okay?’, ‘What about James?’, ‘Please tell me James is okay!’. And what does Madison do? He kicks someone that's already down. He blamed his best friend for something he had absolutely no control over whatsoever.

Hamilton briefly considers Madison’s point of view. Briefly. Technically, he was in this situation because of Jefferson. Not to mention his connection to his deceased parents. And that's the thing. Madison is not stupid. Hamilton knows that he has grasped the concept that this Jane and Peter Jefferson’s fault. Even though Madison is most likely feeling a flurry of emotions, fear most likely the most prominent. There was no fucking excuse for what he said.

“You can’t honestly believe that. Right?” Alexander questioned.

Jefferson wiped at his eyes. “Is he wrong?”

“Thomas, I’ve told you this once, and I’ll tell you a thousand more times if I have to. None of this is your fault. You did not ask for this, you did not know about this, and you did not cause this. Do you understand me?” Alexander reassured sternly.

“I guess,” Thomas shrugged.

“Do you understand me?” Alexander repeated.

Thomas studied Alexander’s face for any sign of mockery or dishonesty. He was pleasantly surprised to find nothing of the sort. Instead, he found the iconic fire in his eyes that shone with pure determination. It was blinding. He couldn’t help but find comfort in the familiarity of it.

“Yes.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“This is not my fault,” Thomas said with the tiniest fraction of his usual bravado.

It was enough to make Alexander’s lips turn up slightly.

“Hey, sorry to cut in on this heartwarming moment,” Maria interrupted. “But we got a car coming up fast. Too fast.”

As if on cue, Hamilton’s Maserati was rear-ended. Hard. If none of them were wearing their seatbelts, they all would have flown into the practically indestructible windshield. And most likely break their necks.

“Oh, motherfucker,” Hamilton cursed as he reached up towards the passenger's seat to fish through his bag. “Maria, keep driving. Thomas, keep your head out of view. If they’re going to rear-end us that hard, I don't want you under the seat without a seatbelt.” Hamilton pulled out a fully loaded M16.

Their car was once again rammed into, and Hamilton turned to look out the back window. It was a red Mustang with the top down. The fucking top down. With one driver. Moron.

Hamilton scanned the interior of his Maserati and was pleasantly surprised to find a sunroof. He slid it open and quickly hoisted himself up. He rested his rifle on the roof of the car just in time to see the driver of the Mustang look up in alarm. The driver didn’t have a moment to react before a crack in the air was heard. Hamilton released nearly his entire magazine into the man’s upper body.

He watched, wind roaring in his ears, as the man went slack and the car could do nothing but swerve off-road. With a huff, he took the magazine out of the rifle and dropped back into the car through the sunroof along with the gun. Hamilton lowered himself back into the car and slid the sunroof shut.

“You kill them?” Maria asked nonchalantly.

“Mhm.”

“Not going to do some questioning? You know, to find out who sent them.”

Hamilton found that laughable. “No point. Everyone is being sent after us. No use in trying to stop the advances of just one party. Leaves us vulnerable.”

“Fair point,” Maria mused.

“I still don’t appreciate a fucking magazine cartridge being dropped on my face,” Jefferson cut in, sitting up.

Hamilton cringed. “Ooh, sorry.” He examined the quickly forming bruise covering the expanse of Jefferson’s nose. “We can get Angelica to put some ice on that or something.”

“You two should get some rest,” Maria piped up from the driver's seat. “Hamilton, you’re busy trying to keep Jefferson alive. Jefferson, you’re busy trying to stay alive. Both require sleep.” She laughed.

“I think I’ll pass. What happens if I’m dead asleep and you get fucking shocked again? Can’t have you passing out on the wheel,” Hamilton explained.

Well, his concerns were partly true. Hamilton still doesn’t completely trust Maria. He knew logically, she wouldn’t try anything at the moment. If she didn’t want to get shocked to death. Even so, who’s to say that she won’t become a problem down the road. He knows that it’s his job to trust his fellow members of the Syndicate, but he couldn’t help but question Eliza’s decisions on where to disperse information.

“But I agree that you should get some rest, Thomas. Once we get Maria set with Angelica and Peggy, we have a big day planned.”

“What kind of day?” Thomas asked warily.

“I’m going to teach you how to fire a gun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, sorry that this chapter is shorter than usual. 
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos, they make me so happy! :)


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ayo this chapter contains graphic descriptions of torture which isn't mentioned in the tags. please heed this warning*
> 
> Wowie that's a fucking update. My update schedule is so wack, so please enjoy this! I have no idea when the next chapter will be out.

_“Do it, Alexander.”_

_Hamilton flinched at the voice of his superior. His occasional friend. But not right now. Right now Washington was his mentor, his boss, his teacher. And the subject? Torture._

_He gripped the knife tightly, slowly making his way to the man tied up in the chair. The man had a bag over his head and was literally begging for his life. Who was he? Alexander had no idea. He didn’t need to. All he needed to do was listen and learn. Learn how to use the knife in his hand efficiently. So he could do it again. And again. And again._

_The first slide of the knife against the man’s wrist produced a whimper that sent chills down Alexander’s spine. He wanted so badly to give in to the man’s pleas. To just stop. Stop it all. To leave and just go back to working some pathetic 9-5 as a waiter, then return to his apartment that he couldn’t afford._

_But he’s come so far. He couldn’t even count the number of people he’s killed on his fingers and toes. He’s done and is currently doing unspeakable things. A chance at a normal life seems like a distant memory. A dream. A wish. One that he shouldn’t dwell on. It’s gone. What he has now is the chance of a lifetime._

_A chance to find and make his own fucked up family of murderers. A chance to be respected and feared. To be someone important. He dictates life and death, Alexander holds power he never thought imaginable. Throwing it all away isn’t even an option._

_Alexander continues his work, refusing to acknowledge the screams that were growing weaker and weaker. He’s pulled away by Washington once the man is dead. Alexander looks down at his own body that’s covered in blood that’s not his own. He thinks his lesson is over. Until the previous chair is dragged out by Hercules and another is dragged in by Lafayette._

_There is no bag over this one’s head. Alexander can see her face. Her tears. He watches as her mouth forms plea after plea. She undoubtedly heard the screams of Alexander’s previous victim._

_“Again, Alexander.”_

_Alexander swallowed the lump in his throat and set off to work again._

_He killed eleven people that night. Until his knife grew dull._

  
  


Alexander jerked awake, smacking his head against the window. He’s in the backseat of his Maserati, Jefferson snoring a few feet away from him. 

“Despite your refusal to rest, you fell asleep,” Maria commented from the driver’s seat. “According to the map, we’re about five minutes out.” 

Hamilton grumbled and reached over to shake Jefferson awake. 

“Wha- what’s goin’ on?” Jefferson slurred, voice laced with sleep. 

“We’re almost at Angelica’s. And don’t worry, Maria. You’re in excellent hands. Peggy and Angelica are geniuses.” 

“Thanks for the reassurance,” Maria said sincerely. “I’ve never really worked with anyone outside of Reynold’s Syndicate.” 

“Peggy and Angelica can be intense, but don't worry. I’m sure they’ll like you. If you’re good in Eliza’s book, you’re good in theirs.” 

“Alright,” Maria concluded. “But why are we at an optometrist?” She asked, slowing the car to a stop. 

“This is Angelica’s place,” Alexander answered simply, getting out of the car. 

“She lives here?” Jefferson asked incredulously. 

“Kind of. There’s a studio on the second floor that she stays at frequently.” Alexander opened the passenger’s seat and hauled his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s get you settled, Maria.” 

They walked into the optometrist, and Alexander immediately made his way to the door that said ‘employees only’. Jefferson and Maria had no other option than to follow. They walked through the door and were met with the sigh of Angelica Schuyler sitting at a desk scrolling through her phone, looking rather bored. 

To say that she’s an intimidating woman would be an understatement. She wore a coral turtleneck and black suit pants, not a wrinkle in sight. Her deep brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. She looked up at Alexander with a piercing gaze, then smiled. 

“Finally!” She exclaimed, getting out of her chair. She walked over to Alexander, heels clicking against the tile. “You never call me anymore.” 

Alexander was pulled into a bone-crushing hug that he couldn’t pull away from if he tried. So Angelica finally took pity on him and let him go, dusting herself off. She finally took the time to address the other people in the room. 

“I'm assuming this is Maria?” She smiled. “And hi, Thomas.” 

“Angelica,” Thomas greeted. 

“Alright,” Angelica cleared her throat. “I’m sure you two boys have a day planned. And Maria, we can get started as soon as Peggy gets here.” 

Peggy seemed to have timing for these things. She burst in the door, iced coffee in one hand and her gun in the other. She and Angelica were matching, except Peggy wore a yellow turtleneck. She took a long sip of her coffee, before even acknowledging the others in the room. 

“Oh, hey guys,” She breathed. “Alright, let’s get started with Maria. And you.” She pointed to Alexander. “Need to take care of something for me. I shot some guy out there. He almost killed me! It was quite rude, really,” She rambled, setting her things down on the desk. 

Before anyone could get a word in, she shoved Alexander and Thomas aside. She put her coffee in Angelica’s hand and holstered her gun. Angelica opened her mouth to object, but Peggy was already grabbing Maria’s wrist and dragging her out of the office. Angelica smiled at her antics and trailed behind. 

“Stay safe, you two. And Alexander, take care of that body. Knowing her, she just left it in the parking lot,” Angelica huffed before turning around the corner. 

“Alright, going back into that godforsaken car. Yay,” Alexander grumbled, leaving the office. 

Thomas followed and tried his best to avoid looking around the parking lot for the aforementioned body. With Alexander preoccupied, Thomas took the opportunity to sit in the front seat. 

Alexander huffed as he slid into the driver’s seat. He gave Thomas a glare when he saw that he was sitting in the front, but said nothing. 

“So, do you want anything to eat?” Alexander started. “I know you haven’t really gotten the chance to sit down and eat something in the past few days.” 

“Uh, yeah, that sounds good.” 

“What do you want to eat?”

“I don’t know.” Thomas shrugged.

“No. We’re not gonna do that thing where I list you a bunch of options and you say no to all of them. But you still have no idea what you want to eat,” He said. “So pick something.” 

“Can we go to a Dennys?” 

“Nevermind, I hate you. I’m picking.” Alexander stated, starting the car. 

“Alright, where are we going?” Thomas asked. 

“Well first, we need to get gas,” He pulled out of the parking lot. “Then we’re gonna go get some Thai food.” 

“I’ve never had Thai food.” 

“That feels like a crime.” 

They spent the rest of the car ride in less than comfortable silence. Usually, if they were alone together, one of them would end up leaving, or it would become a screaming match. Safe to say, they were under different circumstances. So without the one thing they had, the mutual hate for each other, they had nothing to talk about. 

Thomas found it increasingly difficult to hate Alexander. It was so easy to do it before. Because he was always an asshole. Well, he still is, but not as much. Logically, Thomas knows that Alexander was being decent to him because of everything he’s going through. Treating Thomas like dirt _now_ would be cruel, even for him. 

“Alright, I don’t feel comfortable having you sit in a restaurant. So, we’re going to go get takeout and eat in the car,” Alexander said, getting out of the car. 

They walked into the restaurant together and Alexander placed their orders with the hostess, handing her his credit card. 

“Two orders of yellow curry to go, please.” 

The woman nodded and went off to get their food started. 

“You ever have curry?” Alexander asked, trying to make conversation. 

“No, James would always cook for me,” Thomas trailed off. 

“Hey, forgot about what he said. Alright? You guys have always been attached at the hip, I’m sure you’ll make up in no time,” Alexander reassured. “But you better not be the one to apologize. He was the one being an asshole.” 

“But what if those will be the last things he’s ever said to me? What if something happens to one of us?” 

Alexander sighed. “Oh, ye of little faith.” He took the bag of food and his card back from the hostess. “John and I are the best at what we do. Our jobs are literally to die for you guys.” 

“You’d die for us?” Thomas asked incredulously, following Alexander back to the car. 

“If it comes to that.” 

“Why you and John? Wouldn’t it make more sense for us to be in witness protection or something like that?” Thomas wondered. 

“First, that's not how the witness protection program works,” he said, taking out their food. “You didn’t _witness_ anything, and you didn’t _know_ anything about your parents.” He handed Thomas his food and a plastic fork. “Also, you’d need to have a trial of some sort and then be ruled eligible for the program.” He took a bite of his food. “Besides, there are too many corrupt police officers and FBI agents that are looking for you too.” 

“That’s reassuring,” Thomas drawled, taking a bite of his own curry.

Alexander shrugged. “And Hercules’ been a part of the Syndicate since before I was. Peggy was the one that did digging on your parents because everyone seemed to be pissed at them. Peggy told everyone, Hercules freaked out, and that led to you and James getting ‘hired’ by Washington.” 

“So… James and I got hired, so all of you could keep an eye on us?” Thomas concluded. 

“Yeah, basically. We can talk about it more later. Eat.” 

So they ate in relative silence, apart from the occasional question from Thomas. Alexander answered them quickly, then went back to scarfing down his food. They finished and Alexander placed their empty containers back into the takeout bag, mumbling something about wanting to keep his car clean. 

“Alright, we should get going. We have a long day ahead of us,” Alexander said, starting up the car. 

“What are we doing?” 

“Did you forget already?” Alexander scolded. “I’m teaching you how to fire a gun. We’re going to a shooting range.” 

“I thought I dreamt that you said that,” Thomas said uncomfortably. 

“Awe, you dream about me?” Alexander grinned, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Shut up. Why do I need to know how to fire a gun, anyway? Isn’t protecting me your _job_?” Thomas snarked. 

“If worse comes to worst, you need to know how to defend _yourself_.” 

The ride to the shooting range was spent with Alexander telling Thomas all about his favorite firearms. Thomas found it a bit unnerving that Alexander knew so much about guns. But the familiar comfort of Alexander’s ramblings overpowered it. 

Soon enough they made it to the shooting range and Alexander signed them in. Alexander was thoroughly annoyed that he needed to be taught the basics of firing a gun because it was the law. But it did mean he didn't have to teach Thomas how to hold his damn firearm. 

“Alright,” Alexander sighed once the instructor had left. “Do you remember your stance?” 

“Why do I need to stand like this?” Thomas asked, moving to stand in isosceles stance. “I feel stupid. You never stand like this when you shoot.” 

Alexander raised an eyebrow of disapproval. “A part of my _job_ is shooting. You do it for yars, you get pretty good at it. Besides I haven't missed a shot in years.” 

“Prove it.” 

Alexander scoffed and turned around to observe the targets. They were large, thick pieces of paper with silhouettes of men hanging from the ceiling, occasionally moving side to side. He cocked his gun and fired with one hand. Directly through the head of one silhouette and into the shoulder of another. 

“Hey!” Their instructor yelled from the other side of the glass. “You need to have your glasses and headphones on.” 

Alexander rolled his eyes and reluctantly did as he was told. “That proof enough for you?” 

Thomas nodded and took his gun off safety. He gripped the gun, trying to remember what the instructor told him. “Uh, can you make the targets stop moving or something?” 

“No. I doubt whoever you're trying to shoot will stand still for you,” Alexander drawled. 

So Thomas took his shot, and well it wasn't terrible. He wasn't used to the recoil at _all_ so he stumbled a bit. And the sound was so much louder because he was never this close to a fired gun. Even with the headphones over his thick hair, Thomas's ears were ringing. At least he hit the paper! Completely missed the silhouette though. 

“Again. I want you to focus on your accuracy, alright? I don't care how you stand, or how long you stand there. I want you to be able to hit your target.” 

Thomas went to try again. Shifted his stance until he was comfortable. Relaxed his shoulders, and loosened his grip on the gun. Focusing his eyes on one of the targets, he watched it move for about a minute before he fired. He managed to hit the silhouette in the leg. 

“Good,” Alexander praised. “A shot to the leg will definitely stop them from chasing after you, but won't stop them from shooting you.” 

He walked over to Thomas. “See, if you have the gun below your chest, your shot won't be as accurate.” He placed his hands on Thomas's and fixed his hands. “See this?” He pointed at the tip of the gun, more specifically the sight. “You want to line this up with both your target and your line of sight.” Alexander stepped away. “Now try.” 

Thomas listened to his instructions and made use of the sight. It still took about a minute to eventually fire, but it was a great improvement. A shot to the chest, almost at the heart. 

“How did that feel?” Alexander asked. 

“Better,” Thomas concluded. 

“Great! Do it again. Faster this time.” 

It only took thirty seconds for the next shot. Then twenty-five. Then twenty. Then fifteen. He managed to reduce it to ten seconds with a definitive shot to the chest. 

“Are we done now? My ears hurt,” Thomas groaned. 

“There are improvements to be made, but you did well today,” Alexander smiled, signaling to the instructor that they were all done. “I would teach you hand-to-hand next, but that's more Peggy’s forte.” 

“I don't know how I'd feel accidentally punching one of the Schuylers in the face,” Thomas mumbled worrisomely, following Alexander out of the glass room. 

“Don’t worry,” Alexander laughed. “She wouldn't let you get a single hit in.” 

They went through the process of signing out of the range and then they collapsed in the car, fully spent for the day. 

“Alright, no more sleeping in cars and hotels,” Alexander sighed happily. 

“Where're we going?” Thomas drawled sleepily. 

“We're going to Peggy’s place. Honestly, that place feels safer than the damn oval office. Her security system is insane.” Alexander pulled out of the parking lot and made his way to Peggy's house. Going way faster than the speed limit. 

Even though Alexander was in a rush to just collapse on his guest bed and fall asleep, he spent about half an hour just trying to get in Peggy’s house. Her security system required him to remember things he wasn't even sure happened. How the hell was he supposed to know where he was on October 17, 2013?! 

Once he was engulfed in the welcoming heat and dim lights of Peggy's home, he immediately made a beeline for his guest room, dragging his bag along with him. Thomas followed drowsily, the warm air making him incredibly sleepy. 

“You can use the guest bathroom,” Alexander said. “I'm gonna change out here.” 

“I don't exactly have anything to wear,” Thomas said awkwardly. 

Alexander groaned. “Just a sec,” he mumbled, digging through his mess of a bag. “Here I have some of Lafayette’s clothes with me.” He handed a shirt and a pair of sweatpants to Thomas. 

“Why do you have Laf’s clothes?” 

A blush dusted Alexander's cheeks. “I like how big they are on me.” 

“Awe,” Thomas gushed over exaggeratedly. 

“Shut your damn mouth.” Alexander shoved Thomas into the bathroom. 

While Alexander changed into his sleepwear in relative silence, he was left alone with his thoughts. Never good. 

What the fuck was with that dream? No, it wasn't a dream, it was a _memory_. A memory of a night he hadn't thought about in a long time. It was the night he came to terms with what his life was becoming. As if the people he killed before that weren't clue enough. 

As Alexander thought about it more, he remembered something that his little dream failed to highlight. Everyone was there. Everyone was there _watching_ his _lesson._ Washington wanted to make an example out of Alexander. To show his murderous employees how to properly _torture_ someone. 

Alexander hated it. Every second. He's just glad he's never had to actually properly torture someone. The purpose of it is to obtain information they won't spill unless you _hurt_ them. He couldn't imagine. Talking to the person he was making bleed out of their veins. He's sure that if the situation were to ever arise, he would crack. 

Give in to the pleas of the tortured and put them out of the misery. Nobody would know. Washington wouldn't be there, nobody would. He could just stop and nobody would know. Maybe it would give him a shred of the benevolence he once had. 

“-exander!” 

Alexander jerked violently and turned to address Thomas. 

“Are you alright?” Thomas asked. “You were kind of just standing there.” 

Alexander stared. Unused to seeing Thomas in a loose t-shirt and baggy sweatpants that left nothing to the imagination. 

“Yeah, I'm fine,” he cleared his throat. “I'm just gonna turn in for the night.” 

With that, he promptly collapsed onto the king bed and shoved his face into the soft pillows. 

“Uh, there's no other bed,” Thomas said awkwardly. 

“Just get in the damn bed, Jefferson,” Alexander mumbled into the pillows. “Or sleep on the floor. I don't care. Your choice.” 

Alexander was almost asleep despite himself talking just seconds ago. He was disrupted by a weight on the bed and a blanket being laid over the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 3,000 words and I wrote this in a day! How? Don't ask, I definitely have more important things to be doing. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always always appreciated! <3 :)


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hahahaha remember that thing I said about consistent uploads? Yeah turns out I'm a fucking liar. Right now it's looking like on chapter a month, and I'm really trying to shorten that! 
> 
> I didn't really proofread this, so please ignore any grammatical errors, they won't happen again.

Alexander groaned and tried to bury himself deeper into the covers. His phone had gone off twice already, but he really couldn't bring himself to get up. And he knows it’s not an emergency because it’s his phone being pinged, not his watch. But as soon as the ringing stopped, he got another call. 

Very reluctantly, he feels around the nightstand until he feels his phone vibrate under his hand. Bringing the phone close to his face to attempt to see who was calling him quickly proved to be a mistake. Alexander was met with a screen on full brightness. Squinting, he answered the call and laid back down. 

“What do you want, John?” Hamilton all but growled into the phone. He refrained from yelling because he could hear snores beside him. Jefferson needed the rest more than he did if he was being honest with himself. 

“This isn’t John. Also, stop being such a whiny bitch in the morning.” 

“Fuck off, Herc. What do you want?” 

“I want to know why John won’t answer his phone. I want to talk to my cousin. I haven’t even heard from James,” Hercules answered. 

Alexander could hear Lafayette in the background screaming in French, though he couldn’t make out what he was saying. “You better have called me as a last fucking resort because I am spent and I want to sleep. And what’s going on with your Frenchman?” 

Hercules laughed at Alex’s irritation. “Yes, you’re a last resort, I can’t get a hold of him or Peggy. And as for my Frenchman, I have no idea,” he deadpanned. “I don’t speak French. Doubt it’s anything to worry about, he’s just rambling.” 

Alexander was going to respond, but he was promptly interrupted. 

“Is that Alexander?!” He heard Lafayette scream. The next thing Alexander knew, the screaming was much closer to the phone. “Mon Dieu tu ne croiras pas ce que John-” 

“English, Laf,” Alexander stressed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sure Herc would like to understand what you’re saying. Now, what about John?”

“John and James slept together!” 

“WHAT?!” Hercules yelled. 

Alexander rolled his eyes and sat up. “Yes, I know.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Both Hercules and Lafayette fumed. 

“It's not my business. And if this is the topic this call’s taking, I’m going to hang up.” 

“No,” Hercules sighed. “Can you see if Peggy can reach him?”

“Herc, I know you’re worried, but it’s currently six am here, alright? We all know Peggy’s hours are from eight to eleven unless it’s an emergency, and someone only wakes her up if they have a death wish. I’m sure James is okay, you can wait two more hours,” Alexander yawned. 

The phone was hung up, and Alex dragged himself out of bed. He turned around to spare Thomas a glance. Knowing that he hogged the blanket all night, Alex draped it over Thomas then walked out of the bedroom. 

He padded towards the kitchen and fixed himself a cup of coffee. Sitting down at the dining table, Alexander took a moment for himself. God knows how rare those would be. And how did he choose to spend it? Scrolling through his phone. 

Now, Alexander does not have any personal social media accounts for obvious reasons. So he scrolled through Twitter with a name that doesn’t exist. Countless reports on the murder of Jane and Peter Jefferson plagued his feed. The Jefferson’s murders wouldn’t be significant enough to have hundreds of reports, if not for the “Gang Activity” in every headline. 

Reading through a few of them became amusing, but his patience seemed to diminish along with the coffee in his mug. As Alexander got up to brew another pot, he accidentally bumped into the corner of the counter and dropped the mug. The glass crashed and shattered against the tile. 

“Shit,” Alexander mumbled. He walked to the pantry in search of the broom, careful to not step on the glass. Flipping on the light to the pantry, Alexander was about to grab the broom and dustpan before he heard something from the kitchen. 

“Alexand- ow, FUCK!” 

Alexander rushed to the kitchen. Logically, he knew the only way a stranger could get into Peggy’s house was with a fucking freight train or something; the anxiety was still there. Because he expected the worst, what Alexander was met with was a wave of relief. 

“Shit, Thomas.” 

Thomas was leaning on the counter for support, feet bleeding from the glass shards he stepped on. And he was still fucking standing on them. 

“Thomas, get off the glass!” Alexander walked around and guided him to the living room, sitting him down on the couch. “Stay here I’ll be right back.” 

Thomas nodded mutely and watched his blood drip onto the beige carpet. He never did well with blood, which would most likely prove to be a problem later on down the road. Despite how queasy it made him feel, he continued to watch a small portion of the carpet become crimson. 

He hadn’t even noticed he was crying until his eyes became too blurry because he stopped blinking. Once he did, tears dripped along with his blood. It hurt. And that terrified him. If Thomas can’t handle walking on glass, what’s going to happen when he’s inevitably shot at? He’s terrified of the pain. 

“Hey, Thomas? You with me?” Alexander was now sitting in front of Thomas, looking at him warily. He had with him towels, tweezers, rubbing alcohol, and bandages. “I’m gonna clean you up. This might sting a bit.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” Thomas breathed. He clenched his eyes as Alexander began picking glass shards out of his left foot with tweezers. 

“What’re you doing up?” He soaked up some blood with a towel. 

“I heard a noise. Then you weren’t in bed. I thought something happened.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “So you went to investigate the noise? Thomas, if you think you’re in immediate danger, you hide.” His harsh tone juxtaposed how carefully he treated Thomas’s injury. 

“I was worried.”

“I don’t care,” he snapped. “I don’t care if you hear me scream. You keep yourself safe.” 

Thomas was going to protest, but instead, he hissed in pain as a rag soaked in alcohol was pressed against his foot. He watched as Alexander wrapped his foot in bandages, then picked up the tweezers to start on the other one.

“Listen, Thomas. I’m expendable. Okay? But you’re important, should need to stay alive.” 

“Why am I more important than you?” Thomas challenged. 

“Because you’re good. Yeah, you’re an asshole, but you haven’t done anything to deserve this. You deserve to live.” Alexander continued to focus on removing the glass shards with furrowed eyebrows. “I’m no better than the people out to get you, Thomas. I’m a criminal, alright I’ve killed people. I’m not good.” 

Everyone seemed to love to interrupt Thomas because he was cut off by Peggy descending the stairs. She wore her hair in a black silk bonnet, glasses perched on her nose. Her slippers with matching yellow robe slid on the floor as she barely lifted her feet. 

“Who got blood on my carpet?” She yawned. 

“Thomas,” Alexander answered simply. “Careful in the kitchen, there’s glass on the floor.” 

She gave a sleepy murmur of acknowledgment and made her way over to fix herself a pot of coffee. “What have you boys got planned today?” Peggy asked, sweeping up her shattered mug. 

“Nothing, now that I think about it,” Alexander wondered. 

“Good, because John got what was in the safety deposit box! It’s an address here in Seattle, conveniently enough.” 

“At least I’m not driving a state over this time,” Alexander grumbled to himself, finishing the bandaging on Thomas’s right foot. “You alright to walk?” 

“Mhm,” Thomas nodded. 

“Good, go get dressed. I think I have more of Laf’s clothes.” 

As Thomas slowly made his way back to the guest room, Alexander went back to the kitchen. He helped himself to the coffee that Peggy didn’t finish. 

“By the way,” Alex started, adding creamer to his coffee. “Hercules can’t get a hold of John or James. He wants to know if you can.” 

“Oh, I can. According to John, and I quote, ‘James refuses to talk to anyone at the moment, especially his cousin.’ I should probably tell Herc,” Peggy said, taking the coffee mug out of Alex’s hands. “You should also get dressed. Even though crime doesn’t sleep, you’re less likely to get shot at in the morning.” 

Alex groaned and trudged over to the guest bedroom. 

“Are you decent?” Alexander knocked on the door. 

“Yeah, come in.” 

Alexander entered the room and spared a glance at Thomas. He was already dressed, laying in bed curled in on himself. 

He knows he was pretty harsh and short with Thomas earlier, but it was the truth. Alexander is no better than the people trying to kill Thomas. He's gone after people, he's done exactly what nearly every crime branch in the country is currently doing. And he's succeeded. More than once. 

If Alexander's being honest with himself, if not for Hercules’s relation to James; his Syndicate would be after Thomas, too. Not that they ever did any business with the Jeffersons, no. They'd simply go after Thomas for the bounty on his head. Quick couple million would be the price put on his life. It would be so easy. Nobody would be there to protect him. Nobody.

Alexander Hamilton is no saint. The farthest thing from. 

Sighing, he grabbed his duffel bag from the foot of the bed and walked over to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he made quick work of digging out some casual attire. All black wouldn't be much help during the day. He pulled his hair back into a loose bun and exited the bathroom. 

“Come on,” Alexander said. “We’re burning daylight here.” He took in the way Thomas clenched his eyes and fidgeted his hands. He wanted to ask if he was okay, but Alexander already knew the answer. “I’ll be in the car when you’re ready.” 

Being treated coldly was the last thing Thomas needed, and Alexander knew that. But Alexander was having his own qualms. Now, he’s come to terms with himself that he’s not a good person long ago. He’s angry at himself for coming off to Thomas as some guardian angel sent from heaven. Alexander’s the one that's running into danger to save Thomas. Not the other way around. 

He recognizes Thomas’s mannerisms well enough to know that he didn’t hesitate to make sure Alexander was alright. That shit can not happen again. Alexander needs to make sure that Thomas understands, he needs to set it straight. They aren’t ride or dies. Both of them do what they can to keep Thomas alive, and that is it. This fucked up relationship they have works one way. 

Maybe it’ll be easier for Thomas to leave Alexander for dead if he’s constantly an asshole. Who knows? Who cares? Alexander doesn’t. He just needs Thomas to wrap his head around how this works. 

Sparing a nod to Peggy, Alexander made his way to the garage and slid into the driver's seat. Sighing, he threw his bag into the back seat and gathered his head in his hands. God, if only he could have gotten over five hours of sleep. That’s all he’ll be running on for god knows how long. 

Alexander sat just like that in the car for a few minutes until he heard the garage door open. He's glad he doesn't have to voice that Thomas should sit in the backseat. Once he hears Thomas's seat belt buckle, he starts the car. 

Pulling out his phone, he inputs the address that Peggy sent him into the car’s GPS. Alexander let out a sigh of relief when he saw it was less than an hour away. And as much as he'd love to get this errand over with immediately, he was currently running on five hours of sleep, one and a half cups of coffee, and no food. 

“Denny's?” Alexander offered awkwardly, pulling out of the garage. 

Thomas wasn't expecting any sort of conversation. “What?” 

“Do you still want Denny's?” 

“I- yeah,” Thomas nodded appreciatively. 

Alexander offered nothing else, just made his way to a Denny's he's been to often with Peggy and Angelica. He only feels guilty about the mixed signals he's sending Thomas. This specific Denny’s has a drive-thru, meaning they don’t need to get out of the car. Despite how suffocating the air in the Maserati has become over the past few days. 

He placed two orders of French toast at the intercom and paid at the window. They told him to wait in the parking lot while they fix their food and then bring it out to them. Alexander really can’t blame them, they only just opened. 

“I don’t get you,” Thomas blurted. They sat in the parking lot, waiting for their food. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Are you bipolar or something?” Thomas continued. “One moment you’re fretting after me because I cut myself on some glass. The next you're yelling at me for caring about you. And now you're getting me Denny's, which you got mad at me for suggesting yesterday!” 

“You care about me?” Alexander doubted. 

“That’s not what you should take away from that! What is wrong with you? You're a grade-A asshole! It’s not nice to send me mixed signals when I’m on the verge of a panic attack every fucking minute! Could you try and show me some shred of sympathy?!” 

“Thomas, you shouldn’t care about me! You need to worry about yourself,” Alexander said, picking up the argument he thought they left at Peggy’s. 

“Do you realize how inhumane that sounds?” Thomas gaped. “You’re out on the front lines, getting shot at, risking your life for me, and you want me to not care about you?!” 

“You’re not getting it! What’s the point of me risking my life for you, if you’re willing to do the same for me? Huh?! You learned how to fire a gun yesterday, and I can’t imagine you’d be able to defend yourself in any other way. Even then, you won’t have ten seconds to stop and shoot!” Alexander yelled.

“What is this how you want the rest of my life, our lives to be?” Thomas asked in disbelief. “You protect me, you put your own life above mine until I die? Until you die? You’re acting like that’s your only option. I should be able to care about you! Why can’t I learn how to protect myself, and you?”

“Thomas, that’s an entirely different conversation.” 

“Well then let’s have it.” 

A tired-looking Denny’s employee knocking on the window with their food interrupted them. Alexander rolled down the window and snatched the bag away from the worker a bit too rudely, but he didn’t care. He rolled the window back up and waited until the employee was back inside the restaurant. 

“Look,” Alexander huffed, handing Thomas his French toast and a fork. “I’ve been training for years, alright I’ve done things you can’t imagine.”

“I obviously don’t expect to be on par with you, or John, or Lafayette, or Eliza, or anyone after me…” Thomas trailed off. “But I want to be capable.” 

“Thomas,” Alexander sighed. “That’s a lot of work. And no words can really express how it feels after you kill someone, especially the first time. That’s a lot of trauma and you won’t have the luxury to sit down and unpack it. This type of thing isn’t a split-second decision.” Alexander took a mouthful of French toast. “I’ll think about it, okay?” 

Thomas knew better than to push his luck, so he nodded and took a bite of his French toast. It made him a bit nauseous, as he wasn’t used to eating this early. The sun had barely risen about ten minutes ago. He was also feeling a bit jet-lagged. He’s been in three different time zones in the past week and most of his sleeping up until last night had been in the backseat of this car. 

Alexander turned on some mellow music in hopes to ease the tension in the air. He doesn’t know if it worked for Thomas, but Alexander finished his breakfast feeling a lot less stressed than he was about ten minutes ago. 

He keeps the music on as he makes his way to the address. By the time they get there, it’s almost eight am. It’s a rundown looking house, dead grass all around. Alexander and Thomas get out of the car after Alexander had deemed it visibly safe, of course. 

Walking up to the door, Alexander noticed an eviction notice taped to the front. The bold red letters had faded into a light pink, and the single piece of tape looked like it was going to fall any second. 

Pulling his gun from his holster, Alexander kicked open the door. Sun light poured in through the windows, which he was grateful for. He doubted anyone was paying any bills for this place. It was empty, no furniture. The entire house was practically coated in dust, and he’s pretty sure he saw a rat scurry by. There was one bedroom with a connecting bathroom and that was it. 

“I’m gonna look around, you watch the windows for me, okay?” Alexander asked. 

Once Thomas nodded his affirmation, Alexander moved to the bedroom. Just like the rest of the house, it was completely devoid of any furniture. There was nothing to find. Or someone found it before them. Just as he was going to call it a lost cause and call Peggy, he heard shuffling from the connecting bathroom. 

He thought quickly about how to play this. The majority of Alexander’s plan relied on this guy’s level of stupidity. 

“Alright Thomas, there’s nothing here!” Alexander said very over exaggeratedly, walking back towards the main room. Maybe he should have taken acting classes like Eliza. 

“That was fast,” Thomas commented, following Alexander out of the house. 

Once they stepped out the front door, Alexander yanked Thomas down with him below the view of the window. 

“Be quiet,” Alexander whispered. “There was someone in there.”

Thomas nodded.

They watched the door and as soon as it opened and a man stepped out, Alexander shot him in the leg. He fell to the ground with a shout, clutching his leg. Alexander stood over him, gun trained on his other leg. 

“How did you find this place? Who do you work for? What did you find?” Alexander asked a slew of questions, never really giving the injured man a chance to answer any of them. 

But while the bleeding out man distracted Alexander, he didn’t notice someone else creep up behind them. Not until Thomas spoke. 

“Alex?” Thomas whimpered. 

A woman held a gun to Thomas’s head, her other arm around his throat. She had similar features to the man Alexander shot. “Siblings,” Alexander thought. Thomas clutched the woman’s arm with both hands. He looked utterly terrified. 

“How about a trade?” The woman smiled, tightening her hold on Thomas. 

Alexander spared a glance to the man on the ground. He was quickly growing pale. Alexander knew that with the rate of blood loss, he wouldn’t make it to a hospital in time. His sister must know that too, she’s bluffing. 

“You and I both know that’s not going to happen. And you’re not going to kill Jefferson.” 

“And what makes you so sure about that?” 

“You’re a nobody. If you put a bullet in his head, you couldn’t show your face at your Syndicate ever again. I’m sure your orders are to bring him to whoever's in charge, bring him alive.”

She didn’t even falter. “Well, I’m sure you don’t want him shot at all.” She moved her gun to Thomas’s knee. “So throw your gun behind you and get on the ground.” 

Alexander threw his gun far behind him, out of anyone’s reach. 

“Good, now get on the ground.” 

Alexander began to lower himself to the ground. But before anyone could blink, he whipped a knife from the bottom of his boot and threw it. Right in the woman’s hand, the one about an inch away from Thomas’s throat. She screamed and dropped her gun immediately to clutch her hand. Thomas fought out of her hold and ran behind Alexander. 

Grabbing the knife from his other boot, Alexander threw at her again. Right between her eyes with perfect accuracy. The blade wasn’t long enough to even touch her brain, so she crumbled to the ground, bleeding out in agony. Alexander ran over to pick up his gun. He shot the woman in the head, putting her out of her misery. He never did well with screams. 

He turned to the almost forgotten brother on the ground. He died quietly. Which annoyed Alexander a bit because he didn’t get any of his questions answered. Cringing, Alexander riffled through his jacket to see if he took anything from the house. He found a stack of documents bound with a binder clip and considered it a safe bet. 

Alexander stood up, ready to go. He turned to Thomas and wasn’t really surprised with what he saw. He stood staring numbly at the woman’s body. Before Alexander could go over to him, Thomas turned around and vomited away from the bodies.

“Hey, why don’t you go sit in the car?” Alexander asked gently, rubbing his back. 

Thomas walked off to the car without a word. 

Scrunching up his nose, Alexander pried his knives from the woman’s corpse. He also took her gun, walking towards the car. He placed the weapons in the trunk, knowing that Thomas wouldn’t want to see them. 

He slid into the back seat with Thomas, and arms were immediately wrapped around him. Alexander found himself awkwardly returning the embrace. 

“Hey, you're okay,” he reassured. “You wanna take some deep breaths for me?” 

“No. No, I’m good,” Thomas whispered. 

“How're you feeling?” 

“Scared. Like I wanna barf again,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay. You feel how you need to feel.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Thomas muttered. “Can you just make up your mind about how you want to treat me?” 

“I have,” Alexander said with a smile that Thomas couldn’t see. “Alright, let’s check this huge ass stack of papers.” They both pulled away from the hug. 

Alexander placed the stack of paper on his lap and unclasped the binder clip. As he flipped through them, Alexander grew increasingly more frustrated. The papers were a detailed history of the Jefferson’s financial transactions. The prices were left to see, but they had crossed all parties involved out with a permanent marker.

“These are just redacted bank statements!” 

Thomas took the stack from Alexander’s lap. “Let me see.” Thomas began flipping through them, and the confusion was clear on his face. “What the hell?”

“What?”

“I mean, my parents made money, but not this much money. They didn’t pick up nearly enough cases to garner this income,” Thomas explained. 

“And I doubt they would have any transactions related to dealing arms on fucking bank statements, redacted or not,” Alexander added. 

“With this amount of money, my great-grandkids wouldn’t have to work a day in their lives,” Thomas concluded. “But look.” He was on the last page in the stack. “They withdrew everything a few days before…”

“Before they died,” Alexander finished. “Thomas, do you know what this means?” 

“Uh, could you explain?” Thomas asked sheepishly. 

“Everyone isn’t after you because your parents screwed people over on some deal. This isn’t a petty revenge plot. They want all of that money, and they think you know where it is. It’s like you said, that amount would have your family set for generations. Crime families want that kind of financial backbone. With it, they could do almost anything they wanted. Buy any rivals out.” 

“That’s terrifying.” 

“Thomas, that’s more than terrifying,” Alexander argued. “You have a five hundred billion dollar bounty on your head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave comments and kudos they leave me with an unexplainable amount of happiness.


	8. Chapter Eight

Alexander sat at the dining table with Peggy, Angelica, and John. They were all trying to wrap their minds around the bank statements. Angelica had been flipping through the stack of papers and jotting down notes for almost half an hour; her minor in finance provided her the best understanding out of all of them. Peggy sat with her laptop, digging up anything on the Jeffersons she hasn't already. Alexander and John didn’t prove to be as helpful as the sisters. The two of them just offered theories, most of them being improbable. 

They worked quietly, as Thomas and James needed their sleep. Thomas slept in the guest room, having passed out as soon as he and Alexander returned to Peggy’s house. James slept in Peggy’s bed after she begrudgingly agreed to John’s pleading. Peggy had called John over as soon as she got a hold of the bank statements. Thankfully, he wasn’t terribly far out from Seattle. 

Thomas and James still haven’t talked to each other. They avoided each other like the plague. 

A knock at the door interrupted their work. Peggy looked away from her laptop for about a second before she told Alex to answer the door. “You answer it, I’m actually being productive right now.” 

Pushing himself out of his seat, Alexander sauntered over to the door. Cheeking the peephole, he opened the door with a smile. “Hey, Maria. Where’ve you been?” 

“Uh, hi,” she greeted with a tight smile. “I’ve been keeping myself busy, and I think I might’ve found something. Can I come in?” She gestured behind Alexander. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Alexander walked back into the house, Maria following and closing the door behind her. 

“You found my address?” Peggy asked, surprised. 

“No, Eliza told me,” Maria laughed. 

“Speaking of,” John inserted himself into the conversation. “Eliza should be back by now, no?” 

Everyone turned their attention to Maria, awaiting an answer. If Eliza has time to spill Peggy’s address, surely she can come back to the Syndicate. 

“Uhm,” Maria started. “She said she’s going to be staying away for longer than expected. And this is the reason.” Maria held up a thick file. “She’s with King right now and managed to nab some information.”

As soon as the file was placed on the table Peggy snatched it and threw it open. Angelica moved next to her, John and Alexander doing their best trying to read the papers upside down. The pair eventually gave up and waited for already read papers to be passed to them by Peggy. 

“Oh my god,” Angelica mumbled, halfway through the file. 

Maria nodded in agreement. 

“What?” Alexander demanded. 

“That five hundred billion dollars has been dispersed around the country, and even in South America. No wonder there are people after our asses in every state. Everyone that’s everyone is after this money,” Peggy answered. 

“So that’s why Eliza needed to stay longer,” John concluded. “King knows, and he’s trying to get his hands on it. Nobody else even has a clue where to look. There is no way we could manage to get every last cent.”

“No,” Alexander agreed. “We just need to get the majority of it. Eliza’s staying to tell us which locations have already been taken care of.” 

A majority of the money was an understatement, really. Their Syndicate needed to get roughly 90% of that money to stop anyone from making some serious gains. Money can get you anything, especially when you have connections. And as much as they hated to admit it, King had more connections than they did. 

Not only do they need to protect Thomas Jefferson, but they also need to find five hundred billion dollars before anyone else. Not to mention, nobody has any idea where the Jefferson’s got that much money, not even their own son. And the worst part is “anyone else” thinks Thomas knows where the money is. 

There was a knock at the door, Maria went to go answer. 

“Who the hell are you?” Maria asked defensively.

“I could ask you the same thing,” A familiar voice responded. 

Angelica glanced towards the door. “Let him in, Maria.” 

Aaron Burr walked in and threw a duffle bag onto the table, sending the papers of the file flying everywhere. 

“Where have you been?” Alexander asked hotly. 

“Brazil and Curaçao,” Aaron answered with an equal amount of hostility. 

John immediately made a move for the bag. Opening it, and turning it over, countless wads of one hundred dollar bills spilled onto the table. Everyone turned to look at Aaron with an approving look. Well, everyone except Alexander. 

Maria looked in disbelief. “How did you-”

“I have my ways.” 

God, Alexander does not have enough words in his extensive vocabulary to describe the amount of loathing he feels towards Aaron Burr. Ever since his first day, Burr always treated Alexander with such unexplainable coldness. Alexander with no choice but to return that coldness, an unofficial rivalry was started. And with this fucking display, Alexander was losing his game. 

“I’m gonna go check on Thomas,” Alexander huffed, padding over to the guest room. 

Not bothering to knock, Alexander entered the room and wasn’t really too surprised with what he saw. But it still was odd to see a man he used to hate in such a personal state. 

Thomas was sitting on the edge of their bed facing away from the door with his head in his hands. Alexander could tell by the erratic rise and fall of his shoulders, that he was crying and doing his best to be quiet about it. 

Knowing better than to open his mouth and possibly make things worse, Alexander walked over to the bed and sat next to Thomas. Thomas leaned into him and Alexander took the crying man in his arms, ignoring the way his sleeve began to get wet. They sat there for a while, tuning out the conversations in the kitchen. 

Using his free arm, Alexander rubbed Thomas’s back reassuringly and rocked them together back and forth. Thomas’s silent body wracking sobs eventually died down into small sniffles. Alexander is sure he wanted to cry more, but he was severely dehydrated. He made a mental note to make sure Thomas was taking care of himself, Alexander really only talked to him when he needed to. And yeah, he’s aware it wasn’t the nicest thing. 

Alexander also took notice of the amount of weight Thomas was losing. 

“You need to eat and drink some water.” 

“Don’t wanna,” Thomas mumbled. 

“I know. But you can’t be slipping through the cracks right now,” Alexander empathized. “If it’ll help, I’ll come eat with you. But you have so much passion and eunoia, that makes you worth so much. You can hang on, I promise. It’s all gonna be okay in the end.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Hm?”

“That word. Eunoia. What does it mean?”

“It means ‘beautiful mind’. Despite how many times I’ve called you stupid, I know you’re incredibly brilliant. There’s so much you haven’t done yet.” Alexander smiled. “But something you can do today is try Peggy’s pancakes. They’re to die for.” 

Alexander stood up and urged Thomas to do the same. 

“Take a shower. Your hair is getting matted.” 

Thomas nodded, wiping at his eyes, and walked into the guest bathroom. 

As soon as Alexander heard the shower running he sighed and flopped down on the bed. Lying in bed, he waited for Thomas to get out of the shower. He was being a bit of a hypocrite and he knew it. Alexander himself has been neglecting any sort of self care for months now. But somehow he was still functioning. Barely. 

Now of all times wasn’t appropriate to be wallowing in self-pity. Alexander had other people to worry about other than himself. And less importantly, he wanted to put Aaron Burr in his fucking place. 

Rummaging through his bag on the nightstand, Alexander pulled out his comb and began working through his tangled hair. Wincing, he yanked on the comb to get out a massive knot. Then another, and another. His hair had always been dry, and Martha Washington once commented that he had split ends. Whatever that means. 

Once he was done, his hair reached below his shoulders. It looked nicer and felt nicer. Alexander figured that was a step in the right direction. 

Thomas stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed and scrunching his hair dry with a t-shirt. 

“Did you comb your hair?” Thomas asked. 

Alexander nodded. 

“It looks dry. Ever heard of moisturizer?” 

Scoffing, Alexander walked with Thomas into the kitchen where everyone was fawning over Burr’s story of him being in South America. Typical.

“Aaron?” Thomas asked in surprise. 

Burr turned to the pair. “Thomas?” 

To everyone’s surprise, especially Alexander’s; Thomas and Burr met each other halfway in a tight hug. 

Feeling awkward, and a bit annoyed, Alexander went to go fix two plates of leftover pancakes. Not waiting for Thomas to sit down, he shoveled pancakes into his mouth and watched the interaction with interest. 

“Is James here too?” Aaron asked. 

“Yeah, but we’re not exactly on speaking terms,” Thomas cringed.

“What? But you two are practically brothers!” 

“I guess, but I don’t really kn-” 

“Hold that thought,” Burr interrupted, pulling out his ringing phone. Answering, he walked into the living room for privacy. 

Thomas moved to sit with Alexander, helping himself to the pancakes that were set out ut for him. Before Alexander could ask what that whole interaction was about, Peggy started asking questions about the Jeffersons. 

“Hey, Thomas. Did your parents own any properties besides in Virginia, Washington, California, and Montana?” 

“Uhm,” Thomas began, mouth full of food and caught off guard. “I know about the ones in Colorado and Maine, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they had some they didn’t tell me about.” 

Peggy typed something into her laptop and nodded, satisfied with the answer. 

“Oh yeah, that reminds me” She remembered. “Washington called.”

That got everyone’s attention. Burr even came over, despite still being on the phone. 

“He said you three,” she pointed at John, Alexander, and Thomas, “plus James need to be in Virginia.” 

“Why?” John asked. 

“Because Thomas needs to have his parent’s _will_ read to him. We’re pretty sure he’ll inherit Monticello, giving us access to the place. Nobody else has gotten to it, as it’s been crawling with the FBI and whatnot. Our best bet to find something we haven’t already.” 

John and Alexander groaned in unison. 

“That’s about a 40-hour drive! I’m sick of being cramped in cars,” Alexander whined. 

“I know a guy that can fly you guys over,” Burr piped up, having ended his phone call. 

“I’m gonna need to run a background check on him, but other than that sounds good.” 

Burr nodded and walked back to the living room, presumingly to call the “guy” he mentioned. 

Thomas stood abruptly and walked back to the guest room, Alexander following confused. Closing the door behind them, Alexander waited for Thomas to say something. 

  
  
  
  
  


“I don’t know if I want to go to the will reading,” Thomas said finally. “I thought those were outdated anyway,” he mumbled. 

“I know it’ll be hard for you,” Alexander started slowly. “But this is a really important step in ending all of this. It may help with your grieving process too.” 

The thing was, Thomas wasn’t exactly _sad_ anymore about his parent’s death. He hasn’t been since the day he found out. Of course, when someone tells you your parents have died, have been _murdered_ you feel sad. But Jane and Peter Jefferson were awful people. 

Will’s usually contain what was left to you, and maybe some sort of message. Thomas knows for a fact that his parent’s will is thick. He would see them working on it in their office almost every week. He never understood why someone would need to work on their will so often. Well, he didn’t understand before he knew what they did behind the scenes. 

Jane and Peter Jefferson were almost never around, and when they were, Thomas just didn’t feel _safe_. Now, they never laid a hand on him but, their words hurt more than anything else. They made Thomas feel like a disappointment, like nothing.

And then Thomas got a great office job. Something he did on his own. He was so proud of himself. Until a gun was placed to the back of his head and he found out that in a way, he only got that job because of his parents. 

Another thing Thomas knows for a fact is that James is listed on that will. So he didn’t really want to hear what message his parents left him. Especially with James, and most likely Alexander in the room. He didn’t want to walk around his enormous estate with memories of his parents plastered everywhere, only to look for more secrets his parents hid from him. The estate he grew up in, but somehow never felt like a home. 

“No, I’m over them being gone. It’s not like I saw them that often anyway,” Thomas confessed. “I just thought I wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore after I moved out, and then _this_ ,” he gestured vaguely. “And now I have to go to a reading of their will that will probably take a few hours and then walk around the halls of my childhood home just so I can find out about more of my parent’s lies!” 

Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape, Alexander was at a loss for words for perhaps the first time in his life. 

“So,” Alexander dragged out slowly, trying to collect his thoughts. “You are grieving, just not over what I thought you were.”

“What?”

“You’re grieving your parents, you’re just not grieving their passing. You’re not over the life they gave you, and you want to move on from it. Establish something for yourself and forget about them,” Alexander said like the know-it-all he always has been. “Going to this reading will give you closure, Thomas, I promise. Once you tie up loose ends you’ll be able to move on.”

Thomas nodded mutely, a bit terrified about how accurate Alexander was. Uncomfortable, he wanted to change the topic. 

“Let me do your hair.”

“What?” Alexander asked incredulously. 

“It looks awful, I can practically see from here how dry your scalp is.”

With a look of mild offense on his face, Alexander scoffed and sat on the end of the bed. He gestured for Thomas to do what he needed to. 

Slightly giddy, Thomas went off to the bathroom and came out with an armful of products.

“Where on earth did you even get those?”

“Under the sink. You do know Peggy’s hair is texturized, right?” Thomas deadpanned. 

“Oh. Right,” Alexander replied sheepishly. 

Thomas sat behind Alexander on the bed and put everything down next to him. Smiling, he began running his fingers through Alexander’s hair pleased to find zero tangles. 

“When was the last time you washed your hair?” 

The silence was answer enough. 

Thomas laughed. “That’s okay.”

“I have no idea what that means, and I am terrified to say that I trust you,” Alexander joked. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll just use some coconut oil and a hair mask.”

“Still don’t know what that means,” Alexander nodded. 

“Thank you for letting me do this.” Thomas worked the oil into Alexander’s hair. 

He didn’t reply, just hummed contently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! I'm sorry for the super late update like this is super late. To clarify, this did not take me over a month to write, it took about three days. I'm just a little shit that procrastinates too much. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> also i love to read comments :)


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone point and laugh it's the author with an extensive vocabulary but still doesn't know the meaning of a consistent upload schedule
> 
> oh wait that's me

Alexander couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Thomas and Madison have been sending each other longing glances throughout the entire jet ride. And they still had about an hour to go. It was obvious that the two wanted to make up, but neither of them made the first move for their own reasons. 

After talking with John, Alexander learned that there was a severe lack of communication going on in that friendship. Though it was nice to get insight on why they were in an argument, it was honestly the least of Alexander’s concerns at the moment. 

Opening his copy of the files and banking statements for what must have been the hundredth time, Alexander took note of what was missing. He hoped he could find it somewhere in Monticello. Maybe he and John could get some time to themselves while they snoop around. 

Frankly, he wasn’t that interested in attending the will reading. It didn’t have anything to do with him. Sure it might be a bit interesting to listen in on some family drama (even if the majority of the family was dead), but Alexander didn’t find it enticing enough to convince him. 

Yawning and on the verge of settling down for a nap, Alexander dog-eared a few papers and clipped the file shut. He spared a quick peek over to Thomas just to find him looking out a window. Before he could close his eyes and get a short amount of some needed rest, he felt something hit the back of his head. 

Whipping around in his seat, he shot John an unamused glare. 

“What do you want?”

John threw another crumpled-up piece of paper directly at Alexander’s forehead. “I’m bored.”

“Cope,” Alexander deadpanned, throwing the paper back at his friend. 

“Maybe I will.”

And Alexander thought that was that, and went back to trying to get some shut-eye. That was until John went around and slammed all of the windows open. Then shut again. Then open again. Then shut again. 

Alexander rubbed at his temples, feeling a headache forming. “JOHN.”

John came bouncing over to Alexander’s seat, clearly pleased with himself. 

“Yes?” He drawled, southern accent evident. 

“Can you  _ please  _ go do something else? Like in the back of the jet, far away.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, go fuck your boyfriend or something.”

“James isn’t my boyfriend,” John whispered hotly, glancing back to make sure his not-boyfriend wasn’t listening. 

“Well then maybe you should sort that out,” Alexander smiled mischievously. “Hey, Madison! John wants to talk to you.” He called out. 

Ignoring the painful jabs in the side that John sent him, he continued to beckon Madison over. 

“Yes, John?” Madison looked between the two, confused by Alexander’s smile. 

“He said it was private,” Alexander added, shoving both of them away. 

_ Again _ , Alexander settled himself for a small nap, but he just had to be interrupted. God, why was Thomas sitting next to him? He just wanted some fucking sleep.

“What was that about?” Thomas asked, yawning. 

“John had the audacity to tell me he and James aren't together.” Alexander didn't bother picking his head off of the armrest or opening his eyes. 

“I have a hard time believing that.” 

“Mhm.” 

A beat of silence. 

Alexander decided not to say anything when Thomas laid his head on top of his. He was almost asleep anyhow. 

***

Alexander felt someone shaking him awake so he slowly opened his eyes. The pilot was standing over him and the jet was empty. 

“Excuse me, but we’ve landed.” 

Alexander stretched his arms out and groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Where is everyone else?”

“They’ve already checked into the hotel, sir. They thought you might need the extra rest. There is a cab waiting for you.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Only about an hour and a half,” the pilot assured him. “Your things have been brought to the hotel as well.” 

Alexander thanked and tipped the pilot, squinting at the sun as he exited the jet. Walking down the steps, he suppressed an annoyed groan at the sight of Aaron Burr waiting outside of a cab for him. Too tired and too annoyed to be bothered, Alexander entered the cap without a word. Looking thoroughly unimpressed, Burr did the same and gave the driver the address. 

With droopy eyes, Alexander watched the unfamiliar streets through the window. Even though they were unfamiliar roads, he had enough mind to notice the decrease of structure and the increase of rolling fields. 

“Where are we going?” Alexander demanded. 

“Calm down,” Burr said in such a condescending way that made Alexader want to throw him out of the windshield. “The will executor had to reschedule for an earlier time or we would have to wait for another month. We’re going to Monticello.” 

As if on cue, the cab rolled up to a large grass field decorated in fountains, wilted flowers, leafless trees, and dead grass. To tie it all together were the various news vans and police cars crowding the enormous driveway. 

Alexander couldn’t really afford to be featured on the news at the moment. Or any moment really. All it did was make him easier to track down. 

“Is there any way we can get in the building without being in front of those cameras?” 

“I think we could probably pay them off before anything is aired. They’re not allowed to be live, but they can still report on this case.” Burr unbuckled his seatbelt. “Just keep your head down and don’t say anything for now.”

Alexander followed Burr out of the cab, not bothering to bid the driver goodbye. As instructed, he kept his head down. Ignoring the flashing lights, microphones being pushed under his chin, cameras being almost directly shoved in his face, the numerous questions being shouted at him, and the withering glares from the law enforcement as they were let into the estate. 

God, those newshounds must have  _ nothing _ to report on. Alexander has never been on the news before, they wouldn’t know him. A majority of them even shouted the wrong name at him. Alexander and his friends have never been reported on, and they plan to keep it that way. 

Before he could marvel at the majesty that is Monticello, Thomas was beside him. 

“Thank god you’re here. I hate being the third wheel.” 

Alexander looked around the massive foyer and took a few seconds to admire the gorgeous chandeliers hanging from the ceiling before he noticed John and Madison conversing together. 

“You guys are the ones that left me behind,” Alexander scoffed.

Before Thomas could respond someone cleared their throat. A man in a tight-fitting suit and slick backed hair stood in the center of the foyer, clutching a manila folder. 

“I apologize for being late. Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Madison, are you ready to proceed with the reading?” He asked, shifting his weight. 

“Uh, can Alexander come too?” Thomas asked hesitantly. 

Before Alexander could voice his refusal, the stranger did it for him. 

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Hamilton wasn’t mentioned in the will.”

Alexander took notice of the man knowing his last name as he led Thomas and Madison to an office. 

“So,” John started, walking up to Alexander. “Wanna do some snooping?”

“You know it,” Alexander grinned, making his way through the long-ass hallway. 

“Woah, what the hell?” 

Alexander turned to see what John was looking at and safe to say his interest was piqued. The hallway walls had various paintings decorating them. Expensive, priceless, timeless paintings. Or at least replicas of them. 

Various Da Vinci’s, Van Gogh’s, Monet’s, Michelangelo’s covered the walls. Alexander never had a taste for art, but he had vast knowledge. Considering he had stolen priceless artwork more than once. 

“Wow, I mean I know they were rich, but this is absurd,” Alexander commented, admiring the work. 

Upon closer inspection, Alexander finally spotted the calling card on a replica of Monet’s “The Truth of Nature”. It was so small, almost minuscule. In elegant calligraphy was the name, Randolph. The coloring made it almost impossible to read. 

Alexander moved on to the next painting, then the next, then the next. All of the replicas were painted by the same artist. With incredible attention to detail. 

“If you’re done admiring the art,” John drawled, “maybe we could do what we came here for?”

Nodding, John followed into the first room that branched off of the hallway. And conveniently, it was an art room. Blank canvases and unfinished paintings filled the large room. 

Before he and John could start looking around the room, they were interrupted. 

A scream. A gunshot. Another scream. 

Alexander and John were sprinting out of the room before they could even breathe. His guns must’ve been at the hotel, but he did have a knife. They reached the office and as soon as John kicked the door in, gun in hand, Alexander took the knife strapped to his thigh. 

Thomas was on the floor, clutching his bleeding arm with tears streaming down his face. The will executor now had a bleeding nose and black eye, being held at gunpoint by nonother than James Madison. 

“What happened?” Alexander demanded. 

James trembled like a leaf in a thunderstorm. “He shot Thomas.” 

John pressed his own gun to the executor’s forehead and placed a hand on James’ shoulder. “Help Thomas to the foyer and call Aaron.” 

Nodding with relief, James practically shoved the gun into Alexander’s free hand and helped Thomas stand. Helping put pressure on the wound, he led them out of the room. Leaving Alexander, John, and the executor. 

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are.” Alexander threw his knife into the palm of the man’s hand. How convenient that he had his hands up. “But that was a fucking mistake.” 

He moved to clutch his hand, blood trailing down his arm but John stopped him. 

“No. You get to bleed until you answer some of our questions.” The gun never moved from his head. 

“Well your dumbass let loose that you know who I am,” Alexander started walking closer to the bleeding man. “So who do you work for?” 

“Nobody,” the man gasped. 

Alexander took the knife from his other thigh. 

The man was in hysterics. “I swear, I swear! I was hired anonymously. All I know is that I would make a lot of money if I got him, I swear!”

“Were you going to kill him?” Alexander kept his knife as a visible threat. 

“No, they wanted him alive! I just had to bring him to some address in Richmond.”

“Well if you want to live, I suggest you give us that address.” 

“It’s in my breast pocket.”

Alexander looked at his attire. That suit was too tight to conceal anything at all, well anything that he already didn’t. And there’s no way in hell a firearm could fit inside a breast pocket. 

“Take it out,” Alexander demanded.

Shaking, the man used his uninjured hand to reach into his breast pocket and pull out a folded slip of paper. He extended his hand out and Alexander snatched it away. 

The man was growing increasingly pale. He wasn’t going to make it. Not that they wanted him to anyhow. 

He thought back to the scene he was met with when he first ran into the office.

“How long have you been doing this whole kidnapper for hire shit? You must be pretty shit if you were disarmed by someone with little to no experience.” 

“I’ve been doing it for a few years,” the man confessed. “But I’ve never done anything this dangerous. It’s usually kids.” 

Alexander let the words sink in. This fucker was a child trafficker. 

Alexander shot him in the shoulder. 

“One last question, is that the real will?” Alexander gestured to the folder on the blood-stained desk. 

The man was gasping for air, watching his blood pool onto the floor. 

“Answer, and we’ll get you the help you need,” John reassured. A lie, but he would realize that soon enough. 

“Yes, but the real will executor is dead,” he managed. 

Satisfied with his answers, Alexander kicked the man in the chest and sent him to the ground. “I’m gonna need that back.” Alexander pulled his knife from the man’s hand. 

John grabbed the folder off the desk. “We ready to go?”

“Wait..” the man weakly protested, agonized, laying in a pool of his own blood. 

The man’s pleas were ignored as Alexander and John stepped out of the office. 

With the will, Thomas officially has the right to Monticello. They can do all the snooping they want later. But they had other things to attend to.

Thomas was still clutching his left arm, looking paler every second. Madison was on the phone, tear-ridden for his friend. 

Alexander and John walked over the pair. John took the phone from Madison and pulled him into a hug, telling Burr what had happened. Alexander rushed over to Thomas. 

“Oh my god, Thomas.” He carefully moved Thomas’s hand away and applied pressure to the wound himself. He ignored the way his hand warmed as it became coated in blood. 

Thomas whimpered and leaned into Alexander, resting his head on the shorter man’s shoulder as best as he could. “It hurts,” he croaked. 

“I know, I know. But you’re gonna be okay. Burr is almost here.” 

“No, no,” he protested. “I need to go to a hospital.” 

There were about a dozen reasons that they couldn’t do that. The doctors would want details. News would get out about how Thomas Jefferson heir to fortune was shot in his own estate. Not to mention he was basically a sitting duck lying defenseless in a hospital bed. Visiting hours wouldn’t allow Alexander to be with him at all times. 

“I’m sorry but we can’t take you to a hospital. You’re going to have to be treated here,” Alexander sympathized.

Thomas jerked and shook his head violently. 

“I know you’re scared, but we’ve all done this before. It’s going to be okay I promise.” 

John didn’t allow Thomas anytime to respond. “Thank god you’re here.”

Aaron rushed over to Thomas and Alexander, first aid kit in hand. “This was all I could get a hold on short notice,” he explained. 

He and Alexander helped lay Thomas on the ground, John used his jacket to cushion his head. Alexander moved his hands away from the wound and let Burr take a look. 

“The bullet went through.”

“Oh, thank god,” Alexander breathed, some weight lifted off his shoulders. 

“We’re lucky this isn’t that bad. We can wrap him up and treat him at the hotel. That’ll be safer.” Burr opened his first aid kit and pulled out a tourniquet. “This might hurt.” 

Alexander gave Thomas his hand, and it was squeezed almost immediately. He winced a bit at the sudden pressure but ignored it in favor of stroking Thomas’s hair with his free hand. 

Alexander watched as the tourniquet was applied. He winced along with Thomas’s shout as immense pressure was put onto the wound. Thomas sobbed when the tourniquet was twisted tighter. 

“Okay, that can’t be on for more than two hours, we have to go.” Burr stood up. 

“What about the police outside?” John asked, helping Alexander stand Thomas up.

“They’ve been gone for a while, news too,” he said dismissively. 

Thomas put almost all of his weight on Alexander as he helped him walk to the car. He helped Thomas to the backseat and made a move for the driver's seat, but Thomas grabbed his hand. 

“Stay.” 

He took little convincing and climbed into the back between Madison and Thomas. Burr sat in the passenger's seat while John drove. 

Alexander let Thomas cry into the nap of his neck the entire drive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyyyy :))
> 
> sorry i haven't updated in like two months. my only excuse is writer's block and school. but it may comfort you to know that i've started on the next chapter :). hope you enjoyed reading, and thank you for being patient.
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated :)


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god two chapters that arent a month apart. maybe don't get used to it :)

Alexander softly shut the door behind him. He let out a shuddering breath and wiped at his wet eyes when he heard the quiet click. He and Burr had spent almost an hour cleaning and treating Thomas’s wound. Alexander stayed with him until he fell asleep. Then stayed a bit longer. 

He could've left as soon as he heard Thomas's first snore. Hell, he could've left once his wound was treated. But he just couldn't. He stayed. 

He stayed and watched the rise and fall of Thomas's chest and cried. Thomas had been in so much agony, and Alexander felt helpless. 

He was the one to pick out the bullet shards left behind that Burr didn't see on first inspection. He also cleaned the wound then watched as Thomas cried when Burr bandaged it tightly. 

It shouldn’t have happened. He had one job, and that was to protect Thomas. His own selfishness got in the way and Thomas got shot. If only he had swallowed his pride and attended the will reading. If only he had taken his suspicion of the “will executor” more seriously. 

No matter how much he wanted to go with John to the address the “executor” was given, he knew he had to stay behind. It was about time he sorted out his priorities. And Thomas is always priority number one. 

“How is he?” 

Madison was sat on the hotel bed, having to wait in a room across the hall while his best friend was treated for a gunshot wound. What even was his life. 

“He’ll be okay, no permanent damage,” Alexander hesitated. 

“But?”

“But, we had no pain solutions. He felt everything.” 

“Oh my god,” Madison murmured. 

Alexander sat beside him. “I have a question.”

“What?”

“What exactly happened in that office..” he trailed off, “that led you to hold that man at gunpoint?” 

“Oh. John had taught me how to disarm someone. He thought that would be something I should know, guess he was right,” Madison shrugged.

“John likes you a lot you know. You’ve had him smitten ever since you were hired,” Alexander smiled, remembering John’s lovesick rambles when everything was a bit simpler. 

“Really?” Madison looked surprised. “If I’m being honest with you, I thought you two were together for the longest time.” 

“God, no,” Alexander snorted. “John's like the annoying brother I wish I didn't have.” 

Madison smiled. 

“Anyways, I was never actually going to shoot him though. The executor.” 

“Whys that?”

“Well, I don’t know how to fire a gun.” Madison picked at his nails. “I also don’t know if I could bring myself to do it. To shoot someone.” 

“Madison, he would’ve had no hesitation in shooting you too if he had the gun for a second longer.” 

“I know. I guess I still haven’t wrapped my head around this whole mess. Maybe I never will.” A few beats of silence. “You can call me James you know.” 

Alexander did suppose they were on a first-name basis. 

Before Alexander could respond, Burr entered the room. He hadn’t bothered to wash Thomas’s blood off of his hands yet.

“He’s asking for you, Hamilton,” Burr said, walking to the bathroom. 

Alexander stayed seated for a bit until he heard the sink running. “I’ll tell you when John gets back,” he told James, grabbing his bag and leaving for Thomas’s room. 

Walking across the hall, he found the door left carelessly unlocked by Burr. Annoyed, Alexander walked in and shut the door behind him, setting his bag down on the sofa. He didn’t bother turning on the lights; the open curtains were enough. Slipping off his shoes, he padded over to Thomas. 

“Thomas?” He whispered, petting Thomas’s hair. 

“Alex.” Thomas didn’t open his eyes. 

Alexander decided to let the nickname slide.

“How’re you feeling?” 

“Like I got shot.”

“Well, that’s a given.” He pressed a bottle of water into Thomas’s hand. “I brought you some things.”

Thomas hummed in response, struggling to sit up. “Like what?”

“Change of clothes, some books, and ibuprofen.”

“Is it the liquid kind?” Thomas whined, trying to open his water. 

God, how old is this guy again? 

“Yes.” Alexander took the bottle and opened it for him. “But I can get you the pill kind tomorrow.” 

Thomas quickly downed the medicine with little to no complaint and quickly followed it with water. He looked at the clothes that Alexander had laid out on the bed in front of him. 

“Will you be able to get changed on your own?” Alexander asked, knowing which answer he hoped for. 

“I think so, I might need help with the sweater though,” Thomas said sheepishly, setting his water and medicine down on the nightstand with his capable arm. 

“Alright.” Alexander helped Thomas out of bed. “I guess I’ll just unpack,” he said turning around towards his bag. “Tell me if you need help.”

“Why’re you unpacking?” Thomas asked, stepping out of his loose-fitting sweats. 

“Well John and James are sharing a room, we’re sharing a room, and Burr is heading back to.. well wherever he goes.” Alexander decided to leave his knives in the bag but unpacked his gun. “And you're on bed rest for at least a week.” 

“A week?!” 

“At least,” he repeated sternly. 

“That seems counterproductive.” Thomas tried to reason, obviously not wanting to be confined to a hotel room. “How’re you going to learn more about the bank statements?” 

“Everyone else is working hard. I'm sure they won't suffer from my absence too much. My job is to stay here with you, and make sure you're okay,” he said. 

“Well, where are we going once I’m off of bed rest? And I need help.” 

Getting up, Alexander turned around to help Thomas with his sweater. 

“Once your arm is better, it's back to a shooting range mostly,” he replied, lifting the shirt off of Thomas, careful not to bend his arm. “And we're also the only ones staying in Virginia, so we can head back to Monticello.” 

Realistically, Alexander couldn't always be there. So he wanted Thomas to be capable so nothing like that would  _ ever _ happen again. Now he knows that is what Thomas was begging for about a few weeks ago, but he was right. Not that Alexander would ever let him know that. 

“We are? Where are John and James going?” Thomas kept his arms straight up as Alexander pulled the sweater down. 

“Our syndicate has other responsibilities besides you. You're mostly mine,” Alexander smiled, helping Thomas back into bed. 

Thomas tucked the duvet up higher as best he could with one arm. Why did the hotel staff always tuck them so tightly? 

“So James is leaving? I wanted to make up with him..” Thomas trailed off. 

“I can make sure you can talk to him before he leaves with John,” Alexander reassured, helping Thomas with the duvet. “He cares about you a lot. But now you need to rest.” 

“So I’m just supposed to lay here?” 

“Well I would prefer if you went back to bed, so I don't have to treat you like a child with a cold,” Alexander snarked. “But I digress. I brought you some books to read if you're not tired.” 

Thomas took the books from Alexander and looked through them. He couldn't suppress his gasp at the last book in the pile. 

“You brought me The Nightingale? It's my favorite novel!”

“I know. You'd never shut up about it back at the office. You and James would always hog the break room,” he recalled fondly. 

And if he also went out and bought the book to read it and then tell “Jefferson” how dogshit it was but ended up falling in love with the story, nobody needed to know that. 

And if he related to the main character, nobody needed to know that either. 

He watched silently as Thomas made his way through the first chapter. “If you're fine here, I’m going to get you something to eat.” 

Thomas nodded dismissively as he turned the page, enthralled with the familiar story. 

Alexander decided that he would be fine on his own, and headed out of the room, flicking the lights on as he left. He hung up the do not disturb sign and locked the door. 

He leaned against the door and let out a long breath. He sort of missed the way things used to be. When the only person Alexander was responsible for was himself. 

When he and Thomas hated each other and that was it. When Alex didn't care about him in the slightest. When Alex didn't cry over him. 

A part of him also missed his life way before Thomas, and John, and even Washington. When he was innocent and the only thing he had to worry about was his rent. He missed domesticity.  He missed having the thought of finding someone.

But he's come to terms that he can never have a life where he settles down and leaves his traumas behind. His entire life has been spent fighting to survive, and that won't stop anytime soon.

“Hey, James? Do you wanna go get some food with me?” Alexander asked, entering the other hotel room. 

“Uh, okay. I'm kind of in the mood for Chinese food,” James said, standing up. 

“Yeah, no time.” John slammed the door open. “I need to talk to you, Alex. Now.” 

Alex followed John out into the hallway, shooting James a confused look. 

“What's going on?”

“I know where the money came from.” 

“What? Are you serious?” 

“I'm dead serious. But to be sure I need to talk to Thomas,” John stressed. 

Alexander pulled out his key card and unlocked the door. He followed John into the room.

“That was fast-” 

“Thomas, did your mother have any hobbies?” John asked. 

“What?” Thomas asked incredulously. 

“Answer the question.” 

“Uh, well she liked to paint a lot.” 

“So that room full of ‘priceless’ paintings, she painted all of those?” Alexander cut in. 

“Yeah, she had a keen attention to detail.” 

“Another question. Why was there a printing press in that room?” John continued. 

“I don't know. I never really went in that room much, she liked her privacy. Why?” 

“I think I know what it was for.” 

“Well?” Alexander asked expectantly. 

“Your parents produced counterfeit money.”

“What are you talking about?” Thomas looked at John like he had grown a third head. 

“Your mother painted the bills on paper, then copied and printed more. Then she would paint on new serial numbers. Then your parents would buy weapons with the fake money, and would sell them for a profit of real bills.”

“How can you be sure?” Alexander demanded. 

“It's the only explanation we have. The sisters and Washington haven't found anything about theft or robberies.” 

“Well, we’ll never know if you're right,” Alexander said. 

“Actually, we can.”

John and Alexander whip around to the door to see Hercules standing there and James behind him. 

“When did you get here?” Alexander asked, genuinely surprised. 

“I couldn't get a hold of you guys, my burner phone broke. But we have a groundbreaking lead.” Hercules told everyone. 

“Which is?” 

“Peter Jefferson is in our custody.” 

Everyone's eyebrows flew up to their hairline. 

“Excuse me?” 

“My father's alive?” 

Everyone turned to Thomas, who was wide-eyed and pale-faced. 

Hercules nodded. “He’s back in New York. By order of Washington, all of us are supposed to head back.” 

“Wait, how the fuck is he alive?” John asked. “The feds found his body.” 

“That, we don't know. He won't talk. Washington wants you,” Hercules pointed to Alexander, “to get an answer out of him.” 

Alexander knew all too well what that implication was. He had nightmares about it, most recently less than a month ago. After how well he had performed (according to Washington), he became the only one in the Syndicate allowed to perform such a task. 

Alexander was going to torture Peter Jefferson. 

“Well, Thomas,” Alexander breathed. “Looks like you're no longer on bed rest.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, this was kinda short but I had it done and I was like why not, right? still, I hope you liked it, even if it was dialogue-heavy
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated, thank you so much for reading :))


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